Repercussions
by Damien J. Frost
Summary: One night between enemies leads to crossed lines by those least expected. Can the world survive the repercussions?
1. Prolouge

**Repercussions**

_by Damien J. Frost_

**Disclaimer: **_Harry Potter,_ and all items associated with,are property of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., et al. There is no profit being gained from the content of this story and it is to be used soley for private entertainment purposes. The plot is the intellectual property of the writer. No parts of this story are to be duplicated or posted elswhere without the expressed permission of the author.

This story is rated "M" or "R" by the guidelines of the fansite on which it is posted and contains Adult Content, Adult Language, Violence, Nudity, and Strong Sexual Content. Do not read if you are under the age of 17. Reader discretion is advised.

_Prologue_

Hermione stomped her way out of Gryffindor tower, slammed the portrait shut, earning her a sharp reprimand from the Fat Lady, and stormed down the hallways.

_I can't believe him!_ she thought angrily. _Little predictable Hermione; her nose always stuck in a book! How can he be so insensitive?_

Her mental rant continued as she passed through the halls of Hogwarts. Then, realizing it was now past curfew, she sought to relieve her anger by seeking students who were out and about, and, therefore, breaking the rules.

Nearly and hour later, after catching several people and feeling slightly better for it, Hermione found herself near the stairs that led to the dungeons.

She paused and leaned against the wall, contemplating bypassing the dungeons all together and just returning to bed.

A small smile crept on her face as her ears picked up the sound of footsteps coming from the stairwell.

Deciding to bust one more student, she turned the corner and came face to face with the only person who could make her night any worse – Draco Malfoy.

Slightly startled, she stepped back and tripped over her own feet. Closing her eyes, her arms flailing wildly, she braced for the impact, but was surprised when it never came.

Slowly, she opened her eyelids, and her breath caught as she stared into the most gorgeous eyes she had ever seen.

* * *

Draco blinked for a moment as he realized he had grabbed the damn Mudblood as she fell. _What the hell am I doing?_ he thought, slightly confused. _My body just moved, and –_

_When did she get pretty?_

His eyes started to roam over her body as her held her there, inches from him, and from hitting the ground. Noticing his appraising gaze she blushed and looked away.

Seeing this, Draco smirked, and let go.

She let out a small squeak when he did, then glared up at him with hate. "What was that? First you save me, then you drop me?" she asked acidly as she got to her feet.

_This is going to be fun_, he thought, his smirk still in place. "How else was I going to feel up the 'untouchable' genius?" he asked, stepping around her.

He could almost _feel _the indignation as she stammered a response. "I… I'm … I'm _sorry?_ Did you just…? _Where_ do you think you are going?"

Pausing, he turned to face her and almost laughed at her flustered look. "I do apologize for having to interrupt this wonderful moment between us, but I have an… _engagement._" He spoke the last word slowly, giving it a special emphasis she couldn't miss.

Draco saw her blush deepen, even in the darkness of the hallway.

"But you're out past curfew," she said, apparently running out of intelligent things to say – quite a feat for her.

"So are you," he reminded, turning away and resuming his trek to the astronomy tower.

"But, I'm a prefect."

Draco stopped again and, rubbing the bridge of his nose, faced her. "So am I, Granger," he said every word slowly and distinctly, so she wouldn't miss the fact that she was being very un-Granger-like.

When he looked up, he noticed her marching toward him, a furious look on her face.

* * *

_Get angry. If you're angry, you won't notice the way he looks. Be angry, go over there and slap him. You've done it before, you can do it again._ These were the thoughts that ran through her mind as she stormed over to the Slytherin prick, Draco Malfoy. 

Just as she reached him and was about to slap him, or… something, she noticed his damnably cute smirk play across his face again, and she froze.

"You know," he whispered, stepping in close to her. "You're pretty when you're angry."

All of Hermione's mental functions were arrested at those five words. Nothing was entering or leaving, no matter how much she tried to get a grip on herself. After a few moments, she began to recover and realized he had been asking her something.

"I… I'm sorry?"

Hermione almost melted as he smirked again. "I was wondering what you would do to stop me from making my appointment?" he asked, his eyes glinting dangerously.

Once more, all the bookworm could do was focus on his eyes.

And unbidden, a thought flashed into her mind.

_Show Ron who's predictable._

Without even realizing it, she closed the space between them and wrapped her arms around him, pressing his lips to hers.

The kiss was intense, better than any she had had before, not that she had much to compare it to… but still, it was good.

Great.

Her breath caught as his tongue licked along the length of her lips.

Incredible.

She shivered when he caught her lower lip lightly between his teeth and pulled softly.

Phenomenal.

Her legs almost disappeared when his tongue gained entrance to her mouth and began dueling with hers.

Hermione ran out of synonyms at this point

The sensations running through her body at this simple kiss were more passionate than any she had ever felt before.

Any. Ever.

She whimpered slightly in protest as he pulled away slowly.

"A little needy now, aren't we Mudblood?" he whispered mockingly into her ear.

Hermione's eyes shot opened as she fully realized whom she had just been snogging.

Draco Malfoy.

She had kissed him.

The chestnut-haired witch pushed him away roughly as the worst part occurred to her.

She wanted to do it again.

* * *

Draco smirked at her shocked face. _Zabini can wait until tomorrow to talk to me_, he thought as he closed the newfound space between them quickly. 

"What's wrong, Granger?" he asked, walking behind her. "Afraid?" he whispered into her ear as he set his hands on her shoulders.

He felt her shiver, but whether it was from fear, pleasure, or the cold, he couldn't tell.

"No," she answered weakly. Draco's smirk only broadened at the obvious lie.

"Are you sure? Because I think you _are_ afraid. But," he said quickly, silencing her protest. "Whether it's fear from being alone, in close quarters with me, unarmed," she jolted at his noticing her lack of a wand. "Or, the fact that Potter and Weasley might find out what you are _dying_ to do, at this very moment, with a certain Slytherin, I'm not quite sure yet," he finished, removing his hands, which had started roaming over her back, and calmly walking away.

"But, as I said, I have an appointment, so I bid you good night."

He couldn't help a small chuckle as he sauntered away. _Three… two… one… zero… zero… zero… Oh, come on already, Granger._

About to give up, he stopped and smiled fully when a small voice sounded from the staircase.

"Wait."

* * *

_What are you doing, Hermione? Just let him walk away. Don't turn around, don't tell him to stop._

She turned around. "Wait." _Great, now you've done it._

She watched him stop and, without facing her, ask the only question she didn't want to answer truthfully.

"What do you want?"

After a moment of silence, he turned and walked toward her again with a predatory grin on his face.

"I suppose that really is the question, now. Isn't it, Granger?"

He slipped past her as he whispered her name, sending goose bumps running down her arms.

"Could it be this you want?" His breath was hot against her ear as his hands ran down her arms.

"Or this?" Her breath was now coming in short, quick gasps now as his hands brushed her breasts through her robe.

"Or, possibly, this?" She couldn't stop the moan that escaped her lips as he settled his hands on the inside of her thighs and rubbed lightly.

Her mind was reeling; debating against how wrong this was and how good it felt. His hands stroked over her body, setting it on fire and sending chills through it at the same time.

Then, she had an epiphany.

_Stop being yourself, and just be unpredictable for once. No one will ever know._

With that final thought, she turned and captured his lips in hers once again.

* * *

Draco smiled against her lips as he savored the kiss. After he deemed it long enough – and, to his surprise, quitegood on her part – he slowly backed away. 

"Now, now, Granger," he tutted. "It wouldn't be proper for two prefects to be caught in a hallway doing something _very_ compromising."

He watched as her eyes grew wide and began to dart around, as if she was looking for someone to walk in on them.

"Don't worry. My room is an infinitely more private place to… engage in pleasurable activities."

He held his breath for an instant while his face continued to hold the mask of smug seduction. He knew this was the moment of truth – if she walked away now, all of his best moves had been for naught.

* * *

Hermione closed her eyes to think about his suggestion. She knew this was the point of no return. If she turned and walked away, nothing would happen. If she went with him to his room, she… well, she knew very well what would happen. 

_A lifetime wondering what could have been, or one night I might end up regretting for the rest of my life?_

She opened one eye to look at him and saw a little bit of worry in his eyes. It was gone so quickly, though, that she thought she must have imagined it.

"Well?" he asked, moving in closer and wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing their bodies tightly together.

"You know I hate you, right?" she asked, chewing her lip as she waited for his answer.

Malfoy blinked and leaned his head back a bit, as if to get a better look at her. "And?" he asked after it was apparent she wouldn't be making any more earth-shattering statements.

The look of wry humor and fake innocence on his face made up her mind. "And if you tell a soul about this, I will have no qualms with killing you," she looked up into his very near face and whispered.

Suddenly, the triumphant smirk was back on his face and he was pulling her down the stairs and into the dungeons almost… eagerly?

_No_, she thought. _Malfoy would never be eager for anything._

* * *

Draco was jumping for joy on the inside because, well, he never did that on the outside. _Hell yes! This is going to be the best blackmail in the world! And no matter what she says, she's way too goody-goody to kill me._

Draco paused outside the Slytherin Dungeon and looked at her for a moment. He was surprised to find her slightly out of breath and looking at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk to rival his own.

"In a hurry?" she asked, setting a hand on her hip.

Draco dropped the hand he was still holding onto and grinned, his eyes raking up and down her body. "You know, Granger, we have to find a way to get you through the common room," he said, leaning against the wall.

She bit her lip again, causing Draco to shake his head. _The wheels are turning, and the genius is at work._

"Take off your robe."

His eyebrows shot up at the command. "A little eager Granger?" he smirked, unbuttoning his robe and handing it to her.

"Maybe," she flirted back, taking the robe from him. "But I'd rather have a little privacy first," she finished as she put it over her head.

Getting the idea, Draco turned to the wall and spoke the password to open the passage to the Slytherin common room.

Entering first, Draco quickly swept his gaze over the few Slytherins left in the common room. All heads turned to regard him, but quickly turned back to whatever had been occupying them before he entered.

He silently thanked Merlin Pansy wasn't among them.

Knowing none of those present would take notice of what he was doing – power led to invisibility when it was necessary – he walked in, Granger on his heels.

"All right, come on," he said reaching back for her. They got through the common room and to his dormitory unscathed, but Draco could feel eyes on him as he led Granger.

He'd have to find out who felt they were allowed to spy on him later.

Opening the door, he saw his two rather large friends playing some card game, or some other idiotic thing that Crabbe had convinced Goyle to do. The other boys that shared his dormitory – sans Zabini, who was still waiting for him in the astronomy tower – turned to face him, curious.

"Everyone out," he commanded, stepping aside and allowing a clear passage out of the dormitory.

Amidst chuckles and shaking heads and a few muttered curses, the occupants of the room filed out. Satisfied that everyone had left rather quickly, Draco allowed Granger to enter and locked the door.

* * *

As Hermione stood outside the door, she grew slightly embarrassed that all these boys had been forced out of their room on account of her. She also took a small note that none of them seemed to take an interest in her. _They'd probably get in trouble with Malfoy if they did_, she thought wryly. 

When Malfoy stepped inside the dimly lit room she followed, and waited until he locked the door before taking his robe from over her head and handing it back to him.

Smirking, he took it and threw it into the open trunk at the end of his bed.

He then closed the space between them quickly.

Hermione's breath caught as he was suddenly there, kissing her passionately, unbuttoning her robe. Impatient, he ripped the last few buttons off the robe and threw it to the ground.

She was about to protest at his treatment of her clothing, when his hands suddenly gripped her ass and lifted her off the ground and gave them a better angle to kiss.

Feeling slightly awkward at having her legs hanging straight down, she wrapped them around his waist as her arms went from around his shoulders to behind his head pressing him in closer.

She loved the way he kissed, it was slow and deliberate, sensual, and he knew exactly when to run his tongue over her lips, when to pull back a little to make her go after him. She could feel him smile against her lips every time she did, and decided he had been in control long enough.

She dipped her head to his neck quickly and bit lightly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to let the skin scrape against her teeth as it slid out from between them. She felt him trying to control the moan that threatened to escape his lips and smiled as she did it again.

After two more times of this, Draco captured her ear with his teeth and nibbled lightly, bringing a shudder of pleasure and causing her to lean her head back, giving him access to her neck so he could do the same as she did to him. Without hesitation, he dove in, gently sucking and biting.

Hermione felt her skin get hot, and she felt her wetness begin to soak her underwear. "Bed," she gasped.

Pulling back from his ministrations, Draco looked her in the eye and smirked. "Are you sure you want to do this with someone you hate, Granger?" he asked, half-joking, half-serious.

Looking into his gorgeous silver eyes, Hermione smiled. "Tonight, I'm not Hermione Granger, and as far as I'm concerned, you're not Draco Malfoy. Just let me pretend we're two people who have feelings for each other beside hate, please."

Draco leaned his head back slightly and looked at her as if for the first time. Then carrying her to the bad, he smirked. "What do I call you then?"

"You know what I mean, Malfoy," she said, rolling her eyes as he sat down with her straddling him.

* * *

Draco smiled as he leaned in and kissed her again as he started on her blouse. He loved kissing her. The thought surprised him a little, but he had to admit she was an excellent kisser. 

Normally, he had to guide girls on how he liked to be kissed. Draco, unlike most guys, knew the importance of a kiss to girls, and had himself begun to invest much in the act. If you found even a mediocre kisser, he knew, you could get extremely turned on if you yourself were excellent.

The fact she was incredible and, he knew, he was as well, made him so hard it almost hurt. She teased him in all the right ways, nibbling here and there; doing everything she could to drive him crazy.

Finally getting her blouse undone, he slid it off her shoulders and reached one hand behind her to unclasp her bra, only to feel her hands pushing on his chest slightly.

Pulling back from their kiss, he watched as she unclasped the bra in the front and slid it off. Draco smirked – he had expected her to be timid and shy about everything, but she seemed to have no reservations about her body.

Something about the quiet ones popped into his mind.

Draco had to admit she wasn't the best looking he had ever bedded, but the way she held herself gave her points in his book.

He ran his fingers lightly over her breasts, which were slightly larger than his hands.

Just the way he liked them.

Her nipples were hard enough to cut glass, and dying to be tweaked.

Who was he to deny her?

Taking her nipples between his thumb and middle finger, he twisted hard enough to gain a pleasurable moan in response, but lightly enough to where it wouldn't even come close to hurting her.

He wanted her to enjoy it.

Because, unlike most people thought, Draco enjoyed giving pleasure almost as much, if not more, than he liked to receive it.

He credited it to feeding his ego with knowledge that he _was_ just that good.

Continuing to tweak her nipple lightly, and occasionally using his forefinger to brush over the tip, he brought his mouth down to her other breast and began to run his tongue around the edge of the areola, which was no bigger than a Muggle coin.

He didn't really care enough to remember its name at the moment.

From time to time, he would dart his tongue across her nipple, bringing with it a sharp intake of breath from her.

Granger, after several minutes of attention, seemed to be fed up with being the only one half-naked. Pushing him back lightly so he ended up lying on the bed, she began to unbutton his shirt, kissing every bit of skin that she revealed on the way down.

She paused for a moment to inspect his necklace. A simple iron pendant on a sterling silver chain. It was a basic dragon, and fairly shoddy crafsmanship as well. Not at all what a Malfoy would normally wear.

"This is odd," she commented, holding it close for inspection.

Before he could respond, she had dropped the necklace and returned her attention to his chest.

Draco was in heaven when she bit onto his nipple. A little harder than he had done to her, but so quickly that the only sensation he had felt was a fast shock of a gratifying nature.

Finishing her trail down his torso, she set her hands behind his head and pulled him into another fierce kiss.

Draco almost pulled away as she pushed his shirt off his arms, but relented because he knew she had already felt the scars.

* * *

Hermione pulled back and looked at where her hand lay on his arm, her eyes wide in surprise and confusion. 

"Hermione."

He said her first name softly, but firmly, gaining her attention back to those entrancing eyes of his.

"Don't ask, because this moment is too perfect to be ruined with questions of the past," he said sadly, keeping his steel grays on her soft chocolates.

Hermione swallowed and nodded before resuming her trek, pushing his shirt down his arms. Tears welled up as she saw the severe burn scars that covered his left arm from his shoulder to just above his wrist. Leaning down, she brought her lips to his marred skin, from the top to the bottom, her tears falling and mingling with her kisses.

Then, trying to put the upsetting image out of her mind, she pushed him back down on the bed and stood to slip her skirt off, leaving her standing in the dark room with only her white cotton panties on.

She smiled shyly when Malfoy chuckled. "Is there a problem with my choice of undergarments?" she asked playfully, effectively lightening the mood.

Lying with his hands behind his head, his eyes raking up and down her body in what she hoped was an appreciative gaze, he shook his head. "No… besides the fact you're still wearing them," his eyebrows wiggled suggestively as he spoke, bringing a light blush to her cheeks.

"Well, I think if I show you some, you should show me some," she responded, once more straddling him and reaching down to unfasten his belt. "After all, how are we going to get anywhere with all these clothes in the way?" she asked coyly.

"How indeed," he said as she finished with his belt. Then, lifting his hips, she quickly unbuttoned his slacks and slipped them down his legs.

That was when she noticed his stiffness straining against his boxers. She smirked teasingly as she ran her hand over it, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him.

"A little anxious now, aren't we, Malfoy?" she whispered before leaning in for a quick kiss.

That being her intention, she was surprised when she couldn't pull away. _His lips taste too sweet for only a quick taste_, she thought as she laid herself on top of him, enjoying the feeling of his hardness through the fabric.

His soft moan against her lips brought her back to the present and she broke the kiss and slid down his body, hooking her thumbs on the waistband of his boxers as she did.

Pulling them down, she grinned at his size. Not being a good judge on size – due to lack of experience – she didn't know if he was very large – relatively speaking, of course – or not, but she deemed the dimensions more than enough for the purpose.

Gazing up at him with what she hoped was a seductive look, she brought her mouth down to his member, flicking her tongue over it lightly. She smiled when she heard his breath quicken slightly.

* * *

_Dear Merlin, she's had to have done this before_, Draco thought as she took him into her mouth. _Yeah, there's no question_, he shuddered. 

"Granger, slow down or I won't make it very far," he breathed.

Releasing him with an audible 'pop' that almost made him lose it, she crawled up his body and kissed him.

As they engaged in a battle of tongues, Draco felt her hand grab onto him and slide his erection between her legs, so that it rested against her still panty-clad lips. Pushing herself up and down, Draco could feel her wetness soaking through her underwear, and smirked as he could feel her getting even wetter, even as the friction drove him crazy.

Taking the initiative, Draco rolled over, gaining the top, and stepped away, taking her underwear with him.

He smiled as he watched her try not to be embarrassed by her nudity. And, honestly, Draco could find no reason for her to be self-conscious. _I'll probably think of something lat­- Just stop, Draco. Enjoy it for once._

With that, Draco lifted her up – bringing a squeak of surprise from her – and set her in the middle of the bed. Then, climbing above her, he positioned himself as he leaned in for another kiss.

Just as he was about to push in, she broke the kiss and her chocolate eyes captured his silver ones.

"Slowly."

Draco just nodded at the simple word and began to enter her. He didn't get very far when he felt her barrier. He stopped and looked at her in shock.

"You… You're still…" He closed his eyes to collect his thoughts quickly, before he spoke again. "Are you sure you want me to be the one?" he asked softly.

Contrary to popular belief, Draco wasn't a monster – he knew how much this one act meant to a girl – never mind that this was _Granger_ – and he would stop immediately if she wasn't completely positive.

Feeling her hands on his face, he opened his eyes and looked into her tear-filled orbs.

She was smiling.

"Remember, Draco?" His breath hitched in his throat at the way she said his first name. "Tonight we love each other. So, please, do it," she whispered.

Smiling, and deciding to give into her fantasy for once, Draco nodded and locked eyes with her as he drew back out. Leaning down, he kissed her on the forehead before giving one quick thrust to break her womanhood.

* * *

Biting her lip to keep from crying out, Hermione's mind was reeling as she tried to deal with the pain. _There's no return now. I can't believe – ohh…_

She moaned as he began to slowly push in and out, the pleasure of the simple act overtaking the pain quickly. His hands found hers as he pinned them to the bed above her head, his thrusts quickening, the increased speed bringing her closer and closer to the edge.

Finally, she felt her orgasm coming as he once more picked up his speed. Crying out she gripped his hands tighter, her knuckles cracking at the pressure.

He didn't stop, though.

He continued thrusting quickly, and her hips rose to meet every thrust in perfect rhythm. Soon, she was on the brink again.

Then, he pulled out.

Her eyes opened in disbelief, but closed again as she felt him push all the way in rapidly. He continued to do this, pulling all the way out then pushing in for several minutes, keeping her on the brink of her orgasm, but never quite fast enough to send her over the edge.

Then, without warning, his lower body became almost a blur as his thrusts reached a fevered pitch.

Hermione came hard, once, twice, and several more times as he continued on at this breath-taking rate. After an eternity of indescribable pleasure, she felt him lock up as she was on the brink of another orgasm.

Then she felt him begin to empty into her, sending her over the edge of her final, and most intense, orgasm of the night.

"Draco…"

* * *

"Hermione…" 

Both of their moans mingled together as they reached the edge, and end, of their endurance.

Draco had forgotten how tight a virgin was. He could feel every time she came, and he had lost count somewhere around five.

Collapsing beside her, he smiled. He couldn't help it. Hermione Granger had been incredible, and he didn't think he could have any less than that good in the future.

Looking at her closed eyes and content smile, Draco realized she really was beautiful. She didn't have Pansy's classic beauty, not by a long shot. She didn't have the schoolgirl prettiness, either.

The thing that made Hermione beautiful was that she didn't hide herself. She didn't try to make herself more than she was. She didn't wear makeup – except at the Yule Ball, Draco remembered – her hair was still wild and frizzy, and she didn't care.

She liked who she was, and she didn't care if you did.

Draco wasn't quite sure if it was the afterglow of incredible sex – something he had rarely experienced – or the fact he had never actually taken the time to look past their six-year mutual hatred.

_I'll think about it later. Just enjoy it for now… just lose yourself in her fantasy_, he thought, wrapping his arms around her and bringing his lips to hers.

She returned the kiss tiredly, and mumbled something after they separated.

"What?" he asked quietly, not wanting to wake her more than necessary.

"Just let me sleep for a little bit. We'll face the rest of the world in a while," she repeated, scooting against him, and sighing contently as she drifted off to sleep.

Draco found himself drifting off after a little while, hoping she would wake up in time to do what she needed.

* * *

An indeterminable time later, Draco awoke to a lonely bed and the dorm light on. Noticing him awake, Hermione stood beside the bed and smiled down at him. 

"You breathe a word of this to anyone, you're a dead man. Are we clear?" the brown-haired bookworm asked as she buttoned up her blouse.

He was speechless for a moment at the change from only a few hours previous.

"Don't worry, I have my reputation to look after as well," he finally responded, running his fingers though his blonde locks.

She shot him a sarcastic smile as she walked over to the mirror to fix her hair. "Of course! How could I forget the great Draco Malfoy – the infamous hater of all things muggle – could never sleep with a Muggle-born!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with venom. "I can see the headlines now: Malfoy heir screws Mudblood! Oh, the horror."

Draco didn't like the way this conversation was going, and he had a feeling she was already regretting what had happened. "Fuck you, Granger. It was you who came running to me, throwing yourself at me, begging me to take your cherry," he paused, something suddenly occurring to him. "Why did you come running to me anyway?"

"First of all, I do not beg," she said pointedly as she walked away from the mirror. "Secondly, I did _not_ come running to you, nor was I looking for you. You and I meeting tonight was pure and simply a coincidence.

"And, finally, if I recall correctly – which I do, by the way – _you_ were the one who was laying down all his best moves, trying to get me to crawl into bed with you."

His lazy smirk crept back on his face. "Of which I was highly successful, wouldn't you agree?"

Rolling her eyes, she sat on the bed next him and, despite herself, smiled. "Right, because the person who is your complete antithesis suddenly jumping into bed with you doesn't set off any alarm bells?" she asked sarcastically.

"Hormones tend to eliminate rational thought, Granger. Anyway, I'm damn sexy, you know it, and I know it. I figured that was reason enough."

She looked at him dubiously for a minute before realizing he was being completely serious.

"Malfoy, what instance in the six years we have known each other would give you the impression that looks mean anything to me?"

After a brief moment of silence, Draco responded with a sheepish shrug. "Good point.

"So, what had the Gryffindor poster-girl out patrolling the halls on someone else's night?"

Hermione sighed and related her story.

* * *

_-Six hours ago-_

Hermione was curled up in an armchair in the Gryffindor common room, reading – as was the norm for the young genius.

She had been sitting there for hours, lost in the words, when Ron and Harry walked in, finally returning from playing a pick-up game of Quidditch on the pitch.

When they saw her, Ron smiled as he walked up and put his arms around her.

She smiled softly at the contact and leaned into his embrace, without once looking up from her book.

After a minute, Ron frowned and pulled the book out of her hands. "Can you stop reading for five seconds?" he asked, obviously irritated.

"Ex_cuse_ me? Give me that back this instant," she said, annoyed at his assuming behavior.

"Why, so you can just stick your nose in it and avoid the world around you again for another night? Or maybe you can find an answer to some long unsolvable problem in here, like you've done a million times." His voice had risen slightly as he had been speaking, and it quickly became apparent to Hermione that this _wasn't_ about her reading habits.

"What is the matter with you?" she hissed between her teeth, snatching her book out of his hands. "Why is it suddenly a problem that I like to read?"

"You are so predictable, Hermione. It's all about you, and how smart you are and how you can figure out the answer to everything, as long as you do the same things every day, read the same books over and over. If it weren't for me and Harry, you'd be the most boring person in this school. You need to get out and _do _things. _Any_thing," he said, throwing his hands in the air, almost pleading with her at this point.

Hermione blinked at his words. _I don't always have my head in a book, there's just nothing else to do in this school that I enjoy. He doesn't know anything. _

Her train of thought came to a sudden halt.

_He doesn't know anything. He never even tries to find out anything about me. What music I like, what I do for fun, what I want to do after school. Hell, for that matter he never even cares about what I want to do, period._

Ron's face became red with rage as he noticed Hermione becoming angrier by the second.

Harry decided that this would be an opportune moment to intervene on the conversation. "Umm… maybe you two should go to bed and cool your heads because –"

"You bloody git," she said quietly as she stood from her chair, completely ignoring Harry, the anger on her face more than evident in her voice.

"You stand there and say I'm nothing but a know-it-all, that there is nothing I like more than 'sticking my nose in a book?'"

Ron nodded, too angry with her too speak.

Harry, sensing this was going to blow up any second walked over to Hermione and set his hand on her shoulder. "Hermione, he's not saying that. Just calm –"

She violently brushed off his hand. "Have you _ever_ taken an interest in anything I like? Have you ever even ventured so far as to _find out_ what kinds of things I like?"

"Like what?" Ron asked sarcastically. "Reading the labels of cereal boxes?"

Harry shot him a look that was easily read as 'WRONG MOVE,' but was completely lost on the red-haired teenager.

"Like _what_? How about this, Ron? What kind of music do I like?" she crossed her arms across her chest and looked at him expectantly.

"Umm…"

"How about my favorite food?"

"…"

"My favorite color? What I do to relax? Or, considering I enjoy reading so much, how about my favorite book?"

At this point, his face had become an odd purple-red color, and Hermione could see a vein in his neck pulsing. "Who bloody cares!" he yelled, gaining the attention of everyone in the common room who had not already been paying attention to the row. "All I'm saying is I would appreciate it, _as your boyfriend_, if you would spend a little more time with me, and a little less time with your books."

_Ah, so the _real _reason comes out, _she thought, her lip curling in a sneer.

"You fucking bloody git," she spat, earning a few gasps from the on-lookers. "You say _I'm_ self-absorbed? How about you replay this conversation to yourself later on – if you have the brain capacity to remember it, that is.

"You don't know anything about me, Ronald Weasley," she snarled, turning on her heel and heading for the portrait, the crowd parting in front of her.

As she reached the portrait, she turned to face him again, and was satisfied that he was still _very _furious.

"Oh, and you can remember it as the last conversation you _ever_ had with your girlfriend."

* * *

"… and, when you started laying the moves on, I thought, 'Show Ron who's predictable,'" she finished, a sad smile playing on her face. 

Draco looked at her, dumbstruck, before a large smirk graced his handsome face. "So you cheated on your boyfriend with his worst enemy just to prove you aren't predictable?" he asked, amazed at the things this woman was capable of.

"_Ex_-boyfriend," she corrected. "And, as you said earlier, hormones tend to eliminate rational thought," she said, throwing him a smirk that looked remarkably like his own. "Never again, Malfoy," she said, standing from the bed and walking out of his room.

Draco leaned back into his pillows, arms behind his head, with a large, genuine smile on his face. "I never imagined she had it in her," he said to his ceiling.

Then, looking at the door she had just exited with her robe over her head, he laughed lightly.

"But I sure hope she has more."

Author's Note

Okay, you guys are probably sick of me doing this by now, but this needed to be done.

After finishing the last chapter, I received several reviews claiming people were confused about how the story had ended up where it had, so I took some time to read over it in its entirety myself. I was very confused.

You see, I started this story four years ago, just before _Harry Potter and the Order of the Pheonix_ was released. So, now, some of the plotlines are a little outdated, and, well people change over teh course of four years.

I know my writing style has.

So, I have taken the time to write an outline - to keep me on track while I write - and I am rewriting and revising _Repercussions _through and through, including putting the side stories in the main body of the story.

I have already written three more side stories, and am halfway through revising the chapters that have already been written.

I apologize again for this, but I hope this will make for a more enjoyable reading experience for you.


	2. Chapter One

_Chapter 1_

Hermione woke the next morning with a soft smile on her face, feeling content.

That smile quickly faded as she remembered the events of only hours prior.

"Oh, bloody hell. What was I thinking?" she whispered in disbelief, tears starting to well up in her eyes. "I can't believe I did something so utterly and completely…" she stopped and the smile returned to her lips as a thought jumped to the forefront of her mind. "…not me."

She lay in bed for several minutes, luxuriating in the memory of the previous night.

Even if he had just been playing to her fantasy, she had seen a side of Draco Malfoy she had never thought existed.

He had been kind, gentle, and thoughtful.

Hermione was sure he would deny any comments to that nature, but that didn't change what she now knew about him.

As she climbed out of bed, she was slightly sad to think they, more than likely, would never share a night like that again.

But that was fine. That had been her condition to herself, and she was sure he had made the same vow.

Collecting her toiletries, she started down the hall toward the prefect bathroom, hobbling slightly due to the soreness the previous night had inflicted upon her.

She started to think of how she was going to keep from being guilty about her night, and, more importantly, keep from telling Harry and Ron.

Then, their argument flashed into her mind.

And this brought her near to tears.

Ron was her first _real_ boyfriend. Victor hadn't counted, as sweet as he was. He had been too old for her, and was too busy with his fame to really have any time for a relationship.

Yes, they had kissed a time or two, but they both knew there was really no spark there.

There had been a spark with Ron however.

_Alright, raging inferno would be more apt_, she thought, a soft smile gracing her lips.

But, the inferno was more about the thrill they got from arguing with each other.

Last night, however, had left her with no thrill. Their argument had turned her cold, and it had hurt.

As she stepped into the prefect's bathroom at a little before seven o'clock, the thought struck her that she and Ron were no longer together.

The tears started to fall.

* * *

Draco Malfoy awoke in an intensely foul mood just after seven o'clock. 

He had been dreaming about her all night – or at least the last four hours of it – and it was frustrating.

_Why the hell should I give half a bloody damn about her?_ he thought as he stormed to the prefects' bathroom, trying to be angry with himself, but failing miserably. _She's nothing but a Mudblood; just another notch in my belt. _

_But damn, was she good_, he grinned as he shook his head. _Never again, huh Granger? Well, one night was definitely worth it._

He reached the entrance to the prefect's bathroom and walked directly into the painting, falling backwards and landing directly on his arse.

"What the hell?" he shouted in surprise.

The mermaid from the painting inside the bathroom suddenly popped into the picture and smiled at him. "Oooh, hi Draco… Sorry, but there's already a girl in here. You'll have to wait."

Rolling his eyes, he stood and walked toward the painting, stopping just inches from it. "And who is the lucky girl that gets to share her bath time with Draco Malfoy, hmmm?"

The mermaid giggled at his flirting. "Hermione Granger."

An evil smile spread across the Slytherin's face.

"If you let me in, you'll be in for a hell of a show," he whispered, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

She tittered again before responding. "Okay, but if anyone finds out, you forced me to do it, alright?"

The portrait swung open and Draco stepped into the bathroom.

"Hello? Is there anyone here?" he called.

There was a gasp and a splash before Granger replied. "Get out you slimy git! I'm not dressed."

Draco's smirk turned into a full-fledged smile as he circled the Olympic-sized bathtub. "Please, Granger," he started as he took his shirt off. "It's nothing I haven't seen in the last six hours or so," here, he dropped his pants. "And you know, its not like you'll be the _only _one naked in here." Now, he was standing in front of her. She was hiding beneath the bubbles, only visible from the neck up.

With a wink, he dropped his boxers and jumped into the pool next to her.

He couldn't help laughing at the scandalized look on her face.

She narrowed her eyes, and, before he could react, Draco had a face full of water and bubbles.

"You just splashed me!" he cried indignantly.

In response, she blew a rather forceful raspberry at him, which earned _her_ the water and bubbles treatment.

Before either teenager knew what was going on, they were chasing, splashing and dunking each other.

Finally, Draco caught her and pinned her against the side of the pool-bath, not even thinking of the position it put them in.

He looked down at her, and realized her _very_ naked body was pressed up against his. This caused an immediate reaction from him, and he felt his loins spring to life.

Granger must have noticed as well, because her breathing began to quicken, and she looked up into his silver orbs.

Her eyes were different from last night.

They were sad. Like she had lost something; like this was the last place she wanted to be.

_I'll have to change that_, he thought, licking his lips.

"No, Malfoy," she whispered as he leaned in to kiss her.

He stopped and pulled back. "Why?"

Shaking her head, she pushed him away lightly, and climbed out of the bath, walking over to where her towel was.

He followed, quiet, determined not to repeat his question, but just as determined to get an answer.

After drying themselves off, the two teenagers sat on one of the benches surrounding the bath and remained quiet.

Nothing happened.

There was silence.

Still, nothing happened.

And, there was silence.

After several more minutes of this, there was still a large lack of anything happening.

Then, more silence crept over the old silence and made all of the silence feel pretty uncomfortable.

Especially for Draco, considering he had been the last to speak.

Finally, Granger heaved a large sigh and looked at him. "This isn't really us, is it?"

"No, its not," he replied without thinking. "Here we are, two people who couldn't have hated each other more only twenty-four hours ago, and now we're prancing around in the bath together like a couple of love struck fools."

The irony of the situation hit them both, causing them to look at each other and smile.

"And anyways, if there _was_ anything between us, its not like it could ever work out," he started.

"Right," she continued, picking up on his train of thought. "I mean, we're just too different."

He nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly. You're a goody-two-shoes, model citizen, smartest-witch-in-a-century, Gryffindor…"

"… And you're a downright smarmy, arrogant, evil, Slytherin git who enjoys picking on first years," she finished, obviously feeling as if she had one-upped him.

Draco mimicked indignation. "_Moi_, pick on _first years_? _Please_, second-years are _so_ much more entertaining," he grinned. "They understand _why_ they should fear me."

Granger smacked him lightly on the arm and laughed. "You're horrible."

"I think that's the point," he retorted, grinning.

Her face fell at his comment, and for an instant, he worried he might have ruined the moment somehow.

Then he remembered he was Draco Malfoy and she was Hermione Granger.

There weren't supposed to _be_ any moments like this.

"You just realized it too, didn't you?" she asked softly.

With a sigh, he nodded. "Yeah… I have to go," he said softly as he stood up to dress. Both teenagers were quiet as he collected his things and made for the door.

Reaching the portrait, he stopped, trying to collect his thoughts.

Trying to rein in his wayward emotions.

"This may have changed everything," he said finally, still facing the door, not quite wanting to leave yet. "But it doesn't change anything."

"I know," she whispered from her spot on the bench.

With a nod, Draco stepped through the door and became Malfoy once again.

* * *

The final two weeks of school passed rather quickly for Hermione. She spent most of the time reading, and spending time with Harry – when he wasn't with Ron, that is. 

Harry had done an admirable job of balancing time between his now estranged best friends, and the young witch was extremely grateful to him for it, seeing how very few people spoke to her nowadays.

Ron, from what she had overheard, was sulking around and trying to spread his altogether foul mood on anyone unlucky enough to be in his vicinity.

She felt horrible for what she had said that night, but he was in the wrong more than she was, and it was his responsibility to apologize first.

That's what she kept telling herself, at least.

She tried very hard not to think about the fact she had slept with Draco Malfoy mere hours after her and Ron's relationship ended.

Hermione knew very well why she wasn't taking Harry's advice and just talking to Ron, and it wasn't because he was a 'hard-headed, hot-tempered git that needs to learn to appreciate what he has,' as she often told anyone who asked – mainly Harry.

Aside from the Boy-Who-Lived, no one spoke to her. Not out of spite, or fear, or anything like that, but because they really didn't know what to say.

Ginny couldn't talk to her – after all, Ron was family.

Lavender and Parvati talked to her just about as much as they had before the entire fiasco, which amounted to 'good morning' and 'good night.'

Malfoy had avoided her like the plague.

Every time they walked down the same hall, he would suddenly find somewhere else to be, and quickly.

It hurt, slightly, but she understood.

She couldn't think about him without feeling this odd sense of right and wrong warring inside her.

For better or worse, there would be nothing else between them.

This was her last thought as she stepped out of the carriage that brought her to the Hogwarts Express, ready for the return trip to London.

She turned and looked up one last time at the towering spires of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Except for a few staff members who called the castle their home, everyone was leaving for the summer – some for good.

The chestnut-haired witch wondered briefly if Malfoy was one of those who wouldn't return, if his darker calling would manifest over the summer.

She shuddered at the idea and quickly pushed it out of her mind.

_What will be, will be_, she thought as she climbed aboard and began looking for a relatively empty compartment.

* * *

There were few things Draco despised more than being forced to sit through someone else's account of what they were going to do over summer break. 

Being told what to do, being sick, and Harry Potter were about it.

So, Pansy's incessant account of what her summer was going to consist of was generally the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard to the blond Slytherin.

Now, Pansy was an altogether reasonable girl, and they had been friends for quite some time. In fact, they were betrothed, and, all things considered, Draco could have a worse person for his wife.

Millicent Bulstrode for example.

Draco shuddered at the thought.

Over the past couple of years, however, Pansy had become more and more possessive of him. She grew angry whenever he tried talking to another girl, or, for that matter, paying attention to anyone other than her.

So, at the beginning of the year, Draco had sat her down and told her, plain and simply, that until they were married, they were just friends.

Not 'friends with benefits,' but simply friends.

She hadn't liked that idea too much.

When he explained to her how she was acting, and how completely irritated it was making him, she relented. She didn't want to jeopardize her future marriage, after all.

So, she had taken to being his friend, and, as her friend, Draco was now subjected to the torture of her talking.

Having been through several of these sessions, he had developed a highly advanced case of selective hearing, picking up on the key words so he could drop the appropriate responses when and where they were required.

Staring out the window of the rapidly moving train, his mind began to wander in the odd way it does when boredom reaches a new level.

_I wonder if she thinks before she speaks, or if the words just come tumbling out._

A few minutes of inane rambling flowed over him after this thought.

_I wonder just how long she can hold her breath. Her lungs get enough of a workout from all the hot air that passes through her lips._ A small smile spread over his lips as the picture of Pansy holding her breath popped into his head. He could just see her floating away because of the backup of hot air.

After this amusing thread ran out, he was left in a deeper boredom than before.

_I wish there was some intelligent conversation on this train._

This innocent thought caused his mind to enter the arena he had been carefully avoiding for several weeks now.

_I need someone to talk to about more than who likes whom and 'What is, like, _so _in right now.' _

_I wonder what Granger thinks about that essay on the healing properties of mandrake and nightshade. Probably thinks it's a complete – _

He stopped and sat bolt upright as he realized what – or rather _who_ – he had been thinking about.

This earned an odd look from Pansy, who had apparently been in the middle of a riveting account of what clothing stores she would be visiting while in Paris.

"Are you okay, Draco?" she asked, looking at him curiously.

Shaking his head, the blond stood. "I haven't seen Crabbe or Goyle," he half-lied. He had specifically told them to get lost, so as to give him this exact excuse to escape. "I need to make sure they made it onto the train alright."

"But, Draco…" Pansy whined in her scratchy soprano voice. "What am I going to do?"

_I am a fucking babysitter_, he thought irritably, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I don't know, and I don't care, Pansy. You are a semi-intelligent person, why don't you think of something."

Slumping in her seat, the Slytherin girl pouted, but nodded in submission. "Fine."

Without replying, Draco walked out of the compartment and directly into the person he had been trying to avoid.

* * *

Harry stopped short as the tangle of bodies went down in front of him. 

Here he was, trying to spend some time with Hermione, and away from the moping, sulking and just generally brooding Ron, when Malfoy decides to pop out of his evil little compartment and ruin his already sour day.

Yes, the compartment was evil because it had housed Malfoy.

No, you weren't going to convince Harry otherwise.

"Get off of me, you smarmy git!" Hermione yelled from below Malfoy, her face red in anger.

Malfoy sneered as he quickly stood. "Oh, please Granger, its not as if you've never been under me before," he snapped.

Hermione's face grew even redder now, and Harry could tell it was from embarrassment, not anger.

Stepping in, Harry shoved Malfoy back through the door he had just emerged from, whereupon he tripped over the feet of a very surprised Pansy Parkinson.

"Like Hermione would ever voluntary touch a maggot like you, Malfoy," the he spat at the prone Slytherin.

A sly smile spread across the lips of his rival, giving Harry a very bad feeling about the direction this conversation was taking.

"Why don't you ask –" he stopped short and frowned, his eyes narrowing at the witch behind Harry.

Turing to her, he saw her shaking her head as she pointed her wand at him, her features livid.

"Another word," she growled. "One more lying word and I will hex you so bad that your own mother wouldn't recognize you."

This seemed to sufficiently cow the blond, but didn't remove the scowl from his features.

"Come on, Harry."

Harry looked back and forth between his friend and the Slytherin on the ground, trying to figure out what had just transpired.

Normally, Malfoy wouldn't have stopped his snide comments to Hermione, no matter the threat to himself.

But he had done just that. He had stopped.

Harry had to run to catch up to Hermione, who had left him in her wake.

_He didn't even call her a Mudblood_, he thought, none of the pieces of this strange event fitting together.

* * *

Draco stormed through the train, furious, lashing out at anyone foolish enough to stand in his way. 

Fucking bloody Potter, always so damn righteous. Always has to get in the middle of things! Why can't that good-for-nothing, piece of dragon dung, perfect little saint just die already!

Okay, so furious didn't quite describe how angry he was.

During his tirade, he happened upon Crabbe and Goyle harassing the trolley lady, and, amusing as it was, decided to rescue her. He was now walking down the hallway of the train putting the fear of Slytherin into anyone unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity.

This continued on for some time, until he happened upon a compartment with its door cracked, and a few familiar voices flowing from it.

_Perfect_, he thought as a cruel smile started to play across his features.

"Well, well, well," he said as he slid open the compartment door. "What a sad collection of students we have here."

Huddled in the compartment were Loony Lovegood, the twit Longbottom, the littlest Weasley, and, his favorite target, the Weasel King himself.

"What do _you_ want Malfoy?" the female Weasley asked, not bothering to conceal her irritation at his presence.

"Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if any of you knew where Granger is?" he asked, his mind throwing an evil plan together in a matter of seconds. "She and I have unfinished business to… discuss," he smirked, choosing his wording so the meaning behind it would not be lost on anyone present.

The Weasel was out of his seat before Draco could blink, and, had it not been for Longbottom's quick reflexes, the Slytherin would have had a large gangly fist connect with his jaw.

Crabbe and Goyle stepped up behind Draco, cracking their knuckles as they did, trying to be as intimidating as possible.

"Now, now, boys. There's no need for violence this early in the day," he said mockingly, quite aware that the Weasel would like nothing more than to prove him wrong on that point.

Goyle, understanding the irony of the comment, chuckled lightly.

Crabbe, on the other hand, looked back in forth in confusion before saying anything. "Why not?"

Pausing in his gloating over the struggling Weasel, who was now being restrained by his sister as well, he turned to his dim friend, an exasperated look on his face.

He looked to Goyle for help, not quite sure how to respond, only to receive more laughter from him in response. Rolling his eyes, he patted the smaller of the two large boys on the shoulder and shook his head, trying not to laugh as well. "Don't worry about it Cra-"

There was a loud crack against the back of his head, and Draco's world went dark.

* * *

"Fight!" 

Hermione stopped in her tracks as the shout rang throughout the halls of the Hogwarts Express. She looked back to Harry, who had a pensive look on his face, looking in the direction the yell came from.

Her brow crinkled in confusion at his expression. "Harry?"

Without an answer, the Boy-Who-Lived took off like a shot, leaving a bewildered Hermione, with her much shorter legs, to try to catch up with him.

Finally coming upon a large press of bodies, the witch forced her way through her peers, trying to make use of the wake Harry had created when he pushed through.

She managed to reach the edge of the ring just after Harry, and stopped cold for the second time.

Harry had just jumped into the fight, taking over for Neville, who had been knocked unconscious just as Hermione had reached them.

Ron's face was broken and bloody, but he continued to trade blows with Crabbe, who was in just as bad of shape.

Goyle, on the other hand, was manhandling Harry, just as he had done with Neville. The large boy's nose was broken, and he had a cut on one of his cheeks, but other than that, he wasn't any worse for wear.

Harry, however, had already had his glasses broken, and blood was pouring from a cut over his eye, just below his famous scar, and Hermione had just heard a snap from a punch that had landed in his midsection.

Not quite sure what to do, Hermione whipped out her wand and stunned all the participants with several rapid _stupefy_ charms.

Looking down on all the bodies, she realized she had not seen the Slytherin ringleader – an odd thing, considering the fighters involved.

"Where's Malfoy?" she asked a third-year standing close by as she rushed to check on Harry.

Before the young boy had a chance to reply, Ginny stuck her head out of the compartment nearby. "He's in here and he's not moving," she said in a rush, her voice panicked. "He's not moving! I don't know what happened!"

Chocolate eyes widened in alarm as Hermione rushed into the room. Quickly remembering everything she had read in medical journals and emergency pamphlets, she set her hand on his heart and one finger under his nose.

She sighed in relief as she felt a fairly strong pulse and a steady stream of air coming from his nose. Reaching behind his head, Hermione's heart stopped when her fingers came in contact with something warm and wet. Pulling her hand back, she had to stop herself from vomiting at the amount of blood now covering it.

"Ginny, go get a professor," she said quietly, her voice dead serious.

When the redheaded girl didn't move, Hermione turned to her. She was sitting there, wide-eyed, staring at Hermione's hand.

"NOW!" she yelled, scaring her friend out of her stupor.

With a quick nod, the youngest Weasley took off in search of an adult.

_Hang in there, Malfoy. Just hang in there._

* * *

Draco was aware of a dull ring coming from somewhere, and he wished someone would just break whatever was making the noise so he could go back to sleep. He had a bad enough headache as it was. 

He heard someone talking, but he couldn't tell if they were right next to him or in another room, because the words were all muffled.

He was pretty sure they were talking about him, though. So, painful as it was, he forced himself to waked up and listen in.

"…sion. He's going to have severe headaches and dizziness for quite some time, because of the severity."

Draco couldn't be sure, but he thought the voice belonged to Madam Pomfrey.

"But, he's going to be alright, right?"

This was Granger, he knew.

_Who's going to be alright? Me?_

_What the hell happ-_

Draco stopped thinking as he remembered.

_Weasley._

Opening his eyes, the blond had to blink several times to try to relieve the pain this simple act caused.

"Yes, he'll be okay. He just needs to rest," the voice he thought was Madam Pomfrey answered. "Thought I am curious as to why you are so concerned about Mr. Malfoy's well-being."

Without missing a beat, the younger witch made up a very plausible lie. "I was the only prefect present during the altercation, and Professors Snape and McGonagall both want a report on it, so the can mete out punishment where necessary" she sighed.

"What … happened …" he croaked out, each word causing his head to begin pounding anew.

Madam Pomfrey rushed over at the sound of his voice and helped him to a sitting position.

You suffered a severe concussion, Mr. Malfoy. I must say, I am impressed you woke this quickly. Some of us were afraid you had gone comatose," she said, worry lines standing out on her face.

"What … about … the … Weasel?" he ground out, doing his best to overcome the pain and vertigo he was feeling.

Granger stepped forward here, a serious look on her face. "Just rest Malfoy. He's not your concern right now," she said softly.

Rest sounded like a very good idea at the moment. He made to lie back down, but was stopped by Madam Pomfrey.

"You can rest, but no sleep for at least 12 hours. We need to make sure your head is okay before you can sleep, because if we don't you might not wake up again."

Feeling that it would be dangerous to nod, Draco grunted in response.

"Your mother will be here tomorrow to take you home," Pomfrey continued.

That was when Draco realized he was in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts.

_Figures._

He looked up to see that Granger was still there, while Pomfrey was walking away.

"Something you … wanted … Granger?" he asked slowly, still struggling with his words.

She was silent for a moment before nodding. "Have a good summer," she said simply before turning on her heel and walking away.

_Stupid Mudblood, _he thought as he watched her leave.

* * *

_All in all, things could have been worse_, Harry mused as he sat in his bed at St. Mungo's. Ron had ended up with a broken orbital bone, a broken nose, and a broken arm. Neville had a light concussion, as well as a broken foot and wrist. 

Harry had sustained three broken ribs, with a fourth having a hairline fracture. The cut above his eye had needed stitches – some charm Goyle had on his fists wouldn't let the wounds be healed by magical means - and Harry didn't want to think about what people would make of his new scar.

That was all he needed, more damn publicity.

Crabbe had fared about as well as Ron had, but Goyle had been a miracle. He had broken his nose while giving Neville a head butt, and sprained a finger when punching Harry.

He had done the most damage and come out with the least.

It was ridiculous.

So, here Harry was, Ron snoring on his left, Neville trying to sleep on his right, and Harry sitting here wondering where Malfoy had found a monster like that to protect him.

_What a wonderful start to the summer,_ he thought bitterly.

Malfoy had been taken back to Hogwarts, "for his own protection," Harry had been told. A few Aurors had questioned Ron, but in end, the altercation had been chalked up to stupid teenage aggression, and not anything more sinister.

Shaking his head, Harry leaned back and stared at the ceiling, wondering why Hermione had been more concerned about Malfoy than any of them.

_Yeah, because I _needed _another mystery in my life_, he thought as he closed his eyes, deciding to figure out the puzzle in the morning.

The last thought he had before he fell into slumber would later be filed under 'Completely Random, but True.'

_I need a hobby._

* * *

_Author's Note_

Review and let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter Two

_Chapter 2_

Seventeen-year-old Hermione Granger sat in her bedroom, staring out her window as she stroked the sleeping half-kneazle on her lap.

The sun had long set, and yet, the young witch could not find any peace in slumber. Every time she closed her eyes anymore, all she saw were steel gray eyes staring back at her.

For all her trying, she hadn't been able to stop thinking of him.

A frustrated sigh left her lips as she closed her eyes. _Why can't I get him out of my head?_

Hermione had asked herself this question hundreds of times over the past week, and she was no closer to finding an answer than she had been.

Seeing Malfoy weak and broken in the Hospital Wing had undone something inside of her, and she couldn't figure out what it was.

It was like one of her constants in life – like books, and getting in trouble with Harry and Ron – had just vanished, and it left her utterly lost.

With a shake of her head,the chestnut-haired girlstood from her perch on her bed and set Crookshanks down, earning a sleepy glare from him before he settled back down and promptly fell asleep again.

Deciding she needed some fresh air, Hermione walked downstairs and out into her small backyard.

Settling herself into one of the patio chairs, she leaned back and stared into the star-strewn sky.

It was a new moon tonight, so the stars shined more brilliantly than they usually were able to. Still, the relative darkness of the night settled her frayed mind a little, or at least enough to allow her to relax.

_I wonder where he is right now, _she thought morosely as she finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Draco Malfoy walked into the middle of the circle created by the towering rocks of Stonehenge, feeling awed at the pure magic that flowed over him. 

This was one of two places in the entirety of the British Isles in which the very land you walked upon contained so much magic it could almost be considered sentient.

No one had ever been able to tap into magic lying here and live.

Except _Him. _

Draco couldn't help but shake his head as he followed his father to his appointed place among the other initiates of the night. _This is wrong. I shouldn't be doing this_, he thought solemnly. _But, father will be proud. He'll finally accept me. I have to do this._

Today was June 5th, his seventeenth birthday, and he was being inducted into the ranks of the Death Eaters, a powerful band of Dark Wizards under the control of Lord Voldemort. He didn't do it because he agreed with their ideals. He didn't do it for the power it would give him.

He did it for his father. For the chance his father would look at him with pride in his eyes.

He did it for the love he wanted.

Draco stood there, familiar faces, and some not so familiar, to his sides.

And then there were the faceless white masks that surrounded them all.

His bride-to-be, Pansy, stood to his left, and Goyle was positioned to his right. Crabbe was next to Goyle, followed by a third year Slytherin Draco had never paid any attention to, and then Alex Weston, a fourth year.

On the other side of Pansy stood Millicent Bulstrode in all her blocky glory, then Heather Knowles, another fourth year.

There were soft murmurings all around as Death Eaters gradually joined the circle.

His father had told him that all of the foremost of the Dark Lord's army would be here to witness his initiation. He began to sweat nervously.

Without warning, silence fell upon the collection.

All eyes turned to the dark presence that had entered the clearing. It created a heaviness in the air that caused one thought, and one alone, to enter Draco's mind.

_Bow to me._

All around him, he heard Death Eaters falling to the ground in reverence. Next to him, Pansy hit her knees, groveling to the awesome power of the creature approaching.

Draco fought the compulsion, knowing he would bow under his own power, not from any coercion.

Crabbe and Goyle did likewise.

Red eyes pierced the darkness and fell upon the three boys, causing the command to repeat with tenfold the power.

Still they resisted, gaining strength from each other.

Coming to stand before Draco, the Dark Lord stared into his eyes. The blond Slytherin realized then that he was no match for such an imposing figure, but he had made his challenge, and he would not back down.

Slowly the pressure faded, and those gathered around the circle slowly rose.

Gasps and murderous murmurs abounded as more and more of those gathered realized the three had not bowed before their lord.

The red-eyed demon raised a hand, commanding instant silence.

Sweat beaded Draco's brow, and he fought the urge to flee. He had planned this with the other boys several weeks ago, and he would see it through to fruition.

"Do you dare defy me?" the greatest dark wizard of the age hissed.

Keeping his gaze averted, Draco shook his head lightly. "No, my Lord. We do not defy you. We merely wish to show our loyalty by bowing of our own free will, and not by any outside compulsion," he spoke clearly enough for all gathered to hear.

Then, with fluid grace, he and Goyle went to their knees.

Crabbe didn't move.

"It seems as if one of you _does_ wish to defy me, Mr. Malfoy," the demon hissed, stepping over to Draco's friend. "Do you have something to say, Vincent Crabbe?" he asked, his face a mere inch from the Slytherin's.

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco could see the boy nod, even as his entire body trembled in fear.

_Kneel, damn it. This isn't a part of the plan. Just shut up and kneel._

The words that came fromCrabbe's mouth froze Draco's blood.

"I won't die like a dog for you."

A hushed murmur ran through the crowd, and Draco heard Pansy stifle a gasp.

Stepping away from the pudgy boy, the Dark Lord swept his hand toward the circle around him. "So, here in front of my most loyal followers, you will die in defiance of me?" he asked incredulously.

Crabbe didn't respond.

Then, something happened that would revisit the Slytherin Prince in his nightmares.

The Dark Lord laughed.

It was an evil sound that left his nerves razed, and the hairs on his neck standing on end. He held down a shudder, but ended up vomiting in his mouth.

He swallowed it back down, not wanting to show _any _weakness. Not now.

The shout was sudden, and caused Draco to nearly jump out of his skin.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

In a flash of green, it was over.

Crabbe lay dead where he had stood only a second before, and the Dark Lord was no longer laughing.

"Are there going to be any _other_ acts of defiance tonight?" he screamed at those gathered in the circle.

There was, predictably, no response, and Draco couldn't tear his eyes from the rapidly cooling body of his friend.

Wormtail stepped forward and began the ceremony, hoping to keep his lord from killing all of his followers in a fit of fury.

"Charles Windermere, step forward!" he squeaked, his alternate nature showing through in his actions as well as his speech.

The little third year that had stood next to Crabbe scurried toward the Dark Lord's servant.

Draco could see the urine that had stained his pants.

"Do you pledge your loyalty, your life and your soul to me?" the red-eyed demon hissed, his voice sending shivers down Draco's spine.

"Y-y-y-yes my Lord," the boy stuttered.

The boy received the Mark, howling in pain throughout the ordeal, earning him a scowl from the Dark Lord.

It continued in the same manner, throughout all of the remaining initiates.

When Millicent was called, Draco glanced at his remaining friend. Goyle was staring straight at the Dark Lord, hatred in his eyes, his knuckles white.

Knowing what the other boy was contemplating – for he had considered it himself – Draco shook his head subtly. "We can't do anything if we're dead, Gregory," he whispered out of the side of his mouth.

After a moment, Draco saw the larger boy nod, then watched as his fists uncoiled.

Satisfied he would not lose another friend tonight, Draco zoned out the next two, preparing himself for his Mark.

Goyle followed Bulstrode, then it was Pansy.

Pansy was the first to not show any outward signs of pain from her reception of the mark.

Even Goyle had flinched.

Draco knew she was trying to prove that she was worthy to be his bride.

When she stood and returned to her place by his side, he could see the sweat streaming down her brow. She gave him a relieved smile, but he knew her.

It was just to cover up how much pain she was truly in.

Turning his eyes back to the rodent standing before the Dark Lord, he knew.

He never should have taken this path.

"Draco Malfoy, step forward."

The moment was upon him. He surrendered his wand to Wormtail, then stepped to the Dark Lord and dropped to one knee.

"So, the time has come for the young Malfoy to follow in the footsteps of his father," the Dark Lord hissed, his tone pleased.

The urge to turn and run returned full force, almost causing Draco to rise. Instead, he tried to swallow, attempting to rewet his suddenly dry throat. "Yes, my lord," he intoned, as his father had instructed him to. _For father_, he reminded himself.

"Do you pledge your loyalty, your life and your soul to me?" he asked, as he had asked all those who had come before him.

"I will do as you ask of me, when you ask of it of me," he recited from memory. "My life is yours; it exists to do your bidding. In death, my soul is yours – to serve you forever, my lord," his voice was strong and clear, not at all how he felt at the moment.

"Rise then, Draco Malfoy, and receive the Mark of your loyalty." Draco stood and held his left forearm towards the Dark Lord, keeping his eyes averted as a sign of deference. He felt the slight tap of Voldemort's wand against his skin followed by excruciating pain. He refused to cry out, to flinch, to even acknowledge the pain as it traveled up his arm and throughout his body.

The pain crawled up his neck suddenly, and Draco could feel it trying to settle into his mind.

He stood there, stone-faced, using all his willpower to keep the magic from invading his thoughts. _My mind is my own…_he struggled, mentally warring with the magic. _STAY OUT OF MY HEAD!_

Suddenly the pain receded, remaining as nothing more than a dull throbbing in his arm, where the Dark Mark now stood like an ugly blemish on his already scarred skin. He felt sweat pouring down his forehead, but refrained from wiping it away, fearing the Dark Lord would see such a casual motion as a sign of disrespect.

"Go home and rest, young Malfoy. I have grand plans for you," the heir of Salazar Slytherin whispered so only the boy in front of him could hear.

Draco bowed again before returning to his place among the others.

Wormtail then walked forward, two other Death Eaters trailing him.

"Here, before our lord, we are equals. To signify this, we cover our faces and our bodies, to remain anonymous in the face of our enemy, and to share our collective mind toward one goal."

After this brief speech, the rat walked from one initiate to the next and handed them, in turn, the items that struck fear throughout England.

A white, featureless mask, and a midnight black cloak.

When he was done, all eyes turned back to their lord.

He was gone.

No high words of praise, no congratulations.

He had simply disapparated, leaving them to make of it what they would.

Draco was slightly stunned at the abrupt ending to the ceremony, but it was quickly forgotten when he turned and saw his father smiling at him.

It wasn't the malicious sneer his father had directed at him for the past six and a half years. It was sincere and full of… pride.

For once in his life, Draco Malfoy had earned his father's pride. He smiled back, a true smile.

For the first time since he was ten years old, he was happy.

* * *

It was nearing two in the morning and Ginevra Weasley tried again to stifle the yawn she had successfully been keeping at bay for the last hour while her eyelids had been falling further and further. 

A tapping at her window caused her to jump in surprise. She blinked as she turned to see an owl sitting on her sill, looking at her with its head turned sideways.

Setting down the book she had been reading, she walked over to the window and opened it, yawning as she undid the latch. _Damn it_, she chuckled.

It wasn't an owl she knew – it seemed more like the plain barn owls the post office used – never mind that she had no idea who would be owling her so late at night.

She took the letter from the owl and gave it a treat. It squawked in gratitude before turning and flying off.

Ginny stared at the unopened letter for a few moments before moving to her bed.

A goofy grin settled on her face after she opened it and realized it was from Luna. She had written her letter by cutting out letters from magazines – like ransom notes from those cheesy muggle crime movies Ginny had seen a few times.

_tO oNe GineVRa WeAslEy,_

_HOw Has youR SumMEr BeeN? DaDDy and i haVe gONe to romANiA, and I WAs wonDerInG if You woULd LiKE me to BrinG AnYtHing BacK wITh me?_

At this point, her letter reverted to her normal handwriting.

_Alright, that was a little to time consuming for me, and I ran out of magazines anyway. In case some of the letters fell off (it happened in the letter I sent to Harry, so he didn't have a clue as to what I was talking about when I told him about the Ravenous Triglobiters that live in the sewers of Bucharest. _

_They're really fascinating, but if you get too close, they'll eat all of your clothes before you realize it. _

_They live in packs and just swarm over you and are gone in the blink of an eye, taking your clothes with them._

Ginny smiled as she noticed that Luna had forgotten to close her parentheses and finish her thought. She also didn't think Harry would know what she was talking about anyway.

_I was wondering if you had heard anything about Hermione, because I heard something slightly disturbing from an acquaintance of mine in Slytherin about her and Draco Malfoy. _

_Just curious. _

_Let me know if you want me to buy you anything!_

_Your friend, _

_Luna Lovegood_

_P.S. Make sure you pick up the next issue of the Quibbler! My dad let me write an article about the Ravenous Triglobiters of Bucharest!_

Ginny blinked. Luna had heard about something going on between Hermione and Malfoy?

While that would explain her concern about the Slytherin git after the fight on the train, it still didn't make any sense.

_I mean, they hate each other._

_Right?_

_And since when does Luna associate with Slytherins?_

Ginny decided she would get to the bottom of this.

The redhead sat down and began writing a letter to her friend, quite aware that they hadn't spoken since she and Ron had their falling out.

Her brother hadn't been handling the end of his and Hermione's relationship very well, and it had only gotten worse after the fight he had gotten in with Malfoy on the train ride home.

He had just been moping around the house, waiting for Harry to arrive from the Dursley's so he could try and keep his lonely mind on things not related to the brown-haired bookworm.

It was driving Ginny insane.

Not that she wasn't sympathetic to him; it was just that she thought he was very much in the wrong at the moment. You just didn't say those sorts of things to _anyone,_ much less your _girlfriend_.

So, here Ginny was, writing to her brother's ex-girlfriend, trying to make sense of something her best friend had told her, and just too utterly tired and scatter-brained to realize she really should be waiting until morning to do this.

When she finished her letter, she snuck into Ron's room – not that she needed to sneak, considering he slept like a rhino – and took Pigwidgeon out of his cage, gave him the letter and smiled triumphantly as she watched the little owl shoot off into the night.

Her smile quickly fell when she realized she had forgotten to tell the little bird where to go.

"Shite!"

* * *

Hermione woke to the sounds of excited scratching at her window. 

_Pig… what is he doing here?_ she thought groggily as she got out of bed and walked over to her window. She stopped and looked at the miniature owl, almost expecting him to do a jig to get let in.

Instead, he hovered in the air, almost like a humming bird, and started scratching at the window again.

The young witch smiled as she let him in. The hyperactive owl immediately zoomed in and tried to find the perfect place to settle before giving up his letter.

Eventually, he figured her shoulder would be the best place, and settled there with an energetic and exultant air.

She smiled as she gave the hyperactive bird a treat and pulled two letters off his leg.

One was written on plain-ruled notebook paper (from Harry she guessed) and the other was all pink parchment and curly handwriting, leading her to believe that it had to be Ginny writing her – or that Ron was trying to trick her into reading an apology.

She opened Harry's letter first and started laughing almost immediately.

_Hermione!_

_So, yesterday I wake up to this scratching sound, at which point I figure it must be Pig bringing me a letter from Ron._

_I get out of bed, open the window, and suddenly find myself on my ass with a tiny feathery ball sitting on my lap looking dazed. _

_Before he had a chance to recover, I pull the letter off his leg, and open it, not realizing that Ron would never write to me on pink parchment. _

_I got to 'Hey Hermione' before I realized that Pig was very lost._

_So, I wrote you this letter, and sent the bundle of feathers and energy to harass you._

_I hope he doesn't end up as forgetful as Errol was._

_Hope to here from you soon,_

_Harry_

Still smiling, she set his letter aside and tore open the letter from Ginny.

At this point in time, Pig poked his head into her line of vision, quite obviously interested in what his owner's sister had sent over.

After pushing the bird out of the way, she began reading

_Hey Hermione!_

_Okay, so… I don't really know how to say this. So I'll just say it._

_I just got a letter from Luna and she told me that she had heard from someone she knows in Slytherin that there's something going on between you and Malfoy. _

Hermione's heart instantly sank as she read this.

_Look, I know it's none of my business, but if there is anything going on…_

_I don't know. But if something is going on, and you broke up with Ron because of it, well that's just wrong._

_I think we should talk._

_Let me know, okay?_

_-Ginny_

Hermione let go of the breath she had been holding shakily.

_What did I get myself into? _

Unbidden, tears started forming in her eyes. "How could Luna have found out?" she whispered to herself as the tears started falling. "Why did she have to find out?"

She cried quietly for a time, Crookshanks coming up to set his head on her lap, trying to give some comfort to his obviously distraught owner.

After her tears had spent themselves, she moved to her desk and wrote a quick letter to Ginny, telling the younger girl to meet her at the Leaky Cauldron around noon. She tied the note to Pigwidgeon's leg and sent him off with strict instructions that no one was to see the letter except for Ginny.

She stood at her window for a few moments, watching the already small bird become a dot in the distance, before turning and heading to her bathroom to get ready for the day.

As she brushed her teeth, her mind wandered to Malfoy. _Maybe I should start calling him by his first name_, she thought as she spit. _After all, we did sleep together. That means something, doesn't it?_

Malfoy's words from the day after returned to her then.

"_This may have changed everything, but it doesn't change anything."_

Hermione thought she had known what he had meant by those words, but now she wasn't so sure.

With a forlorn sigh, Hermione undressed and climbed into the shower, letting the hot water loosen her tight back.

She was unsure of what to think about her situation, especially in regard to Malfoy.

He was a horrible person.

Of that there was no question or debate.

Manipulative, snide, and malicious were some of his better personality traits.

_Except for that day._

That day, she had seen him as a regular human, quite capable of being normal and caring and kind.

It came crashing down when he remembered who they were and what they were doing, however.

She sighed, washing her long hair for a third time. _I wonder the kind of person he would have been if he hadn't been born a Malfoy. _

_I wonder if we…_

The thought trailed off, partly because she didn't want to think about 'could have been,' but mainly because it hurt to think about something that had felt so right for such a short time.

She turned off the water and grabbed the towel off the rack before stepping out. _I can't believe I slept with him. For one stupid night I didn't want to be 'Hermione Granger – Perfect Little Gryffindor," and I took a chance. _

_I wanted… Hell, I don't know what I wanted, but it wasn't this._

She walked back to her room and began to dress, forcibly turning her thoughts to Ginny and what she might know, and what exactly Hermione was going to tell her.

Would she be understanding and realize it had been a mistake made in the heat of the moment? Or would she spit in her face and hate her for cheating on her brother?

It wasn't really cheating, though, considering she had broken up with him shortly before.

_That's a technicality and you know it, Hermione_, she reprimanded herself.

As she sat on her bed and looked at her clock, which read 10 o'clock, she fervently prayed it was the former, but her mind wouldn't let her rule out the latter.

_Two hours..._

* * *

Draco lay in his bed, staring at his ceiling. He mildly ran his thumb over the newly inscribed Dark Mark. 

It had felt good to finally achieve a kind word from his father. _But at what price?_

He hadn't left his room, hadn't eaten or slept, since they had returned from Stonehenge the night before last. _I am a Death Eater. I sold my soul to the devil for a glance at my heart's desire,_ he thought for what seemed like the millionth time since he had returned home. _Then why do I still feel so empty_?

It was a pointless question, he knew. His elation at receiving his father's pride disappeared quickly when he turned to Goyle and saw Crabbe's body laying behind him.

His friend being killed in front of him by the man he had just pledged loyalty to would be enough to make virtually anyone feel empty.

He rolled off the bed and stormed to his bathroom, hating himself for not being able to do anything.

"How could you Lucius? We discussed this! You said you would let him decide his course of action! What was the point of pushing him into this?" Draco shook his head as he reached the bathroom and opened the door. _When are they ever _not _fighting_?

He heard his father's voice start to raise, something that only happened when he was truly angry. "You cannot possibly know the future the Dark Lord has planned for our son. He will be elevated within the ranks of the Death Eaters faster than any of his peers!"

"If he doesn't end up dead like the Crabbe boy first!"

Draco felt his blood run cold at her words. _Oh no…_

He turned and ran to his father's study.

He ran to his mother's screams of pain. _If there's a God, don't let me be too late. _The screaming stopped suddenly as he reached for the doorknob.

"That will teach you to place your business where it does not belong, woman," he heard his father sneer through the thick oak doors. There was a short pause before Lucius continued. "You've far outlived you usefulness to me. _Obliviate._"

Draco burst into the room in time to see the blank look of a lost mind fall onto his mother's face.

He looked at his father, disgust showing fully in his eyes. It was one of the few emotions he was allowed. His father met his glare lazily. "Draco, send for Dr. Minter at St. Mungo's and have him come pick this up," he gestured lazily at the woman crumpled at the foot of his desk.

This man was no longer the man he remembered admiring.

He was a new breed of monster.

"Yes, father."

* * *

Author's Notes

I realize the updates are coming quickly, but I'm quite sure for how long they are going to be coming this quickly, just to warn you.

Please let me know what you think, whether it be praise or just letting me know that I'm a complete and utter fool.

Thank you as always

-Damien J. Frost


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter 3

Ginny stepped out of the fire in a gout of green flames and into the poorly lit main room of the Leaky Cauldron. Looking around, she spotted Hermione with her head down on one of the tables in the corner.

Silently, she made her way over to the other girl and sat down across from her.

The young genius looked up at her ex-boyfriend's little sister and smiled sadly. "Hi."

"Hi," Ginny said nervously, not really understanding what it was she had gotten herself in the middle of. "How are you?" she asked lamely, unsure how to start the conversation.

"I've seen better days," she replied calmly, sitting up straight and setting her arms on the table. After a few moments of awkward silence, Hermione sighed. "I reserved a room, so we can talk in private."

Now more suspicious than before, Ginny rose from her seat and followed Hermione up the stairs.

Entering the room, Ginny noticed there was no luggage. _Looks like she rented it just for this_, she thought, an odd feeling in her stomach.

_If the circumstances were different, this could even be – _

_No, stop it Ginny. She's not like that._

The younger girl took a spot on the bed, while Hermione took up residence on the window sill. "Just ask your questions Gin. I'll be honest," she said, looking out the window.

The redhead looked up at the older girl and saw it.

"So there is something between you and Malfoy," she said softly, hoping it wasn't true.

Hermione shook her head, still not looking at her. "No, there's not."

Ginny felt a small spark of hope, but it was quickly squashed when Hermione continued. "There isn't anything between us, but there was."

The redhead's eyes widened. "You… you and Malfoy? When? _Why_?" she asked, shocked. Hearing a rumor from Luna was one thing, hearing the truth from Hermione was another.

"Okay, no more dancing around. What's going on?" Ginny snapped, finally fed up with Hermione's reluctance to talk to her.

She stared intently at the older girl, waiting for an answer.

Hermione leaned her head against the window, gathering her thoughts. "Gin, you can't breathe a word of this to anyone, above all Ron. Promise me," she finally turned to face Ginny, eyes pleading with her.

_Oh, no. She didn't…_ the younger girl thought as she shook her head. "I can't promise you anything, Hermione. This is my brother we're talking about here."

The older girl seemed to age fifty years at the answer she received. "I guess that's to be expected, though," she said, more to herself than to the youngest Weasley.

"It's because of your brother that I got involved with Malfoy for that day," she sighed, turning to stare back out the window that overlooked the streets of Muggle London.

"What do you mean, Hermione," the younger girl asked cautiously.

"I ran into Malfoy after I got into that fight with Ron," she answered without looking back at her. "He was on his way to an 'engagement,'" she finger quoted, laughing sourly as she did so.

Ginny, for her part, stayed silent, not at all liking the direction this story was going.

"Did you know his left arm is covered in burn scars?" the older girl asked, almost at random.

She received a blank stare in response.

"Or that he wears this shoddy old necklace with a cheap dragon pendant on it? Or that he has a birthmark on his inner thigh in the shape of Belgium?"

The redhead's eyes started widening as Hermione's questions became more and more specific, the picture coming together in her mind.

"Did you know he can be a normal, caring human being?" she breathed, still not facing the other girl.

Ginny just stared at her in shock. "You didn't…" she breathed, refusing to believe a word of it, even with it laid out so clear to her.

Even thought the older girl wasn't facing her, Ginny could see the tears trailing down Hermione's face. "I did, Ginny. I slept with him, and I can't get him out of my head," she said bitterly.

"How could you?" she asked dangerously, her anger for her brother overriding her sympathy for her friend.

The chestnut-haired girl looked down at the floor, still unable to meet the intense gaze of the redhead. "I don't know," she said, voice breaking.

Ginny's lip curled as the infamous Weasley temper began to take over. "You don't _know_?" she yelled, not caring if anyone heard her. "You don't know how it is you ended up sleeping with Voldemort's heir apparent _right_ after you broke up with my brother? Never mind that he's an evil little twit. He's done nothing but insult you, me and my _entire family_ at every given opportunity. How does that translate into 'a normal, caring human being,' Hermione? Make me understand how that works!"

"Because he wanted me!" Hermione screamed back, catching Ginny by surprise. "I didn't have to pretend to be the perfect Gryffindor with him! I could be me, without any expectations or reservations about how I should act, or what kind of person I am! And for _one night_," she paused, a sob racking her body as tears started flowing freely. "I wanted that," she finished weakly as she slumped to the ground. "I wanted to be wanted."

Ginny stood there, staring at this strong girl, the girl who helped her through the trauma of the Chamber of Secrets more than anyone, now sobbing on the floor of a room in the Leaky Cauldron, and she felt ashamed.

She had never known what the chestnut-haired girl had felt like with her brother. She had always assumed – as had everyone – that they were the perfect couple.

Now that she was forced to think about it though, she should have seen something like this coming.

Ron was always one to want something, then, when he got it, take it for granted that it would always be there.

It's not that he meant ill will towards anyone or anything – he had one of the biggest hearts Ginny knew – but he wasn't very good at expressing himself, or knowing that he needed to.

So here was Hermione, a very expressive and – Ginny could now see – insecure girl, heartbroken because she had made a mistake.

Ginny sighed as she sat on her heels in front of Hermione.

* * *

Hermione braced herself for a slap or punch or any of the millions of things she felt Ginny deserved to do to her. 

She received understanding instead.

"I can't forgive you for what you did, Hermione. You basically cheated on my brother, and with his worst enemy at that. I can't overlook that. I can't be your friend after something like that, and I'm sorry, Hermione. But I guess I can understand why you did it, even though I still don't think you should have."

Hermione's sobs slowed, and she looked up at the younger girl, sad resignation in her eyes. "It's better than I was even hoping for," she hiccupped. "You're not going to tell him, are you?" she asked, fear creeping into her voice.

Ginny shook her head with a sigh as she stood up again, "I will if you don't. Because I can't know something like this and not tell him," she smiled sadly as she held out a hand to her former friend.

Taking the proffered hand, Hermione was hauled to her feet. A few minutes of awkward silence followed, with the girls just trying not to look at each other.

"I need to get home now," Ginny finally said when it became apparent the other girl wouldn't be saying anything more.

"I should be leaving too," Hermione said sadly, but made no motion to do so.

Ginny nodded and turned to leave. She paused momentarily at the door, and looked over her shoulder at Hermione. "Take care of yourself," she said, smiling sadly.

The young genius returned the smile. "You too."

With a nod, Ginny opened the door and walked out, leaving Hermione to wallow in the loss of the first of many friends.

* * *

_How could I ever have wanted the approval of _that _man?_ Draco screamed at himself, folding another shirt and setting it in his suitcase. 

He had sent the owl to St. Mungo's as his father had instructed, then promptly returned to his room and began packing his things. He didn't want a House Elf to do it, because they would inform his father that he was planning on leaving.

_How could he do that to his own wife? Someone he's supposed to love._ He stopped as he reached for another pair of slacks and started laughing at his own stupidity.

_Love? What the hell is that? Malfoys don't love. They use things to get what they want in life. Love is a dream, a weakness._

Turning from where his suitcase sat on his bed, he crossed the room, stopping in front of his mirror. He leveled a glare at his reflection that it shrunk back in fear.

There was a solid knock on his door, and he turned to see his father stepping into his room. He didn't disguise the hatred or disgust he now felt for this man. "Can I help you, Father?"

"One of the House Elves saw that you were packing your things, and I was just curious as to where you were going," he said calmly, one elegant eyebrow raised.

"Diagon Alley. I need a little time to sort out my thoughts," he bit out. In truth, he didn't think he could take spending another second in a house with this man.

A cruel sneer crossed Lucius' face. "This isn't about the incident with your mother, is it?" he asked derisively.

Draco's eyes narrowed, but he did not respond.

"Very well then. Let me know where you are staying, in case we need you," he spun on his heel and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Draco didn't need to ask who 'we' were.

Returning his gaze to the mirror he remembered how he felt that night.

Crabbe was dead because he didn't want to follow a madman, and now Draco knew for certain why he felt empty.

He had lost a friend

Again.

Then and there he renewed a vow he made six and a half years earlier.

"I will not be weak."

* * *

"Hey mum, where's Ginny?" Ron called from the top of the stairs. 

"She left a little while ago to meet Hermione for lunch in Diagon Alley – something you could be doing if you'd just suck it up and apologize," she yelled back up at him.

But Ron wasn't listening anymore. _What the hell? Ginny's having lunch with her and she doesn't even tell me? How sisterly of her_, he thought sarcastically.

He flopped down on his bed and Harry, who had arrived that morning, had to roll off the bed to avoid him.

"Bloody hell, Ron. What's the matter?" he asked from his newfound spot on the floor.

"She's not even giving me a chance here, Harry."

This caused the sprawled boy to roll his eyes. "You haven't even tried anything to give her a chance about, mate."

Ron sat up, stiff as a board, and glared at his friend. "I'm not in the wrong, she is. She needs to admit that I'm right for once and just get over it. I don't need to apologize."

The dark-haired boy looked at him dubiously for a moment before shaking his head. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

With a groan Ron flopped back on his bed. "No, I don't. I just want her to talk to me again. I mean, I don't even know what I'm sorry about anymore."

Harry sighed and sat up, curling his arms around his knees, and looked at Ron, completely bored with the subject. "Look, you just need to apologize. Ginny and Hermione are in Diagon Alley, right?"

Ron nodded cautiously, not quite understanding what his best friend was getting at.

"So, we go bump into them and you can tell her how sorry you are."

Ron jumped out of bed, a million galleon smile on his goofy face. "You're brilliant, mate! Let's get going!" he exclaimed, pulling on his shoes and running out the bedroom door.

"Ron!" the other boy called in alarm when the redhead disappeared around the corner.

After a moment, the boy in question popped his head back around the doorframe, a confused look on his face. "What?"

"As stylish as those boxers are, I think you should put on some pants, mate."

* * *

An hour after Ginny left, Hermione emerged from her room and made her way down the stairs to let Tom know he could have the room back. 

"You evil little bugger!"

Hermione's eyes widened as familiar voices started floating up towards her.

"_Please_, poor boy, do start something. I am in a _very_ bad mood and would like nothing more than to get you back for that cheap shot on the train."

As Hermione leapt the last few steps, she saw Ron escape the hold Harry had of him and lunge at Draco, only to be stopped suddenly by a hand coming from virtually nowhere and grabbing the back of his collar.

Goyle lifted the tall boy off the ground, bringing them eye-to-eye.

"I suggest you cool off, because I'm looking for a good brawl right now, and I guarantee I'm a better fighter than Draco."

Ron's face paled as he remembered exactly how good of a fighter the other boy was. That didn't stop him from glaring at the blond in question however. "Having your pet troll fight your battles for you again?" he snarled, though Hermione could see most of the fight had already gone out of him.

Fed up with the childish actions of the boys, Hermione decided to make her presence known. "Ron, stop it."

All eyes turned to her, and all four boys held the same surprised look. She would have laughed under any other circumstances.

"Her-Her-Hermione! What are you doing here?" Ron stammered, obviously not expecting her to walk in on this spectacle.

Shaking her head, the young witch set her hands on her hips in a manner she had learned from Molly Weasley. "I don't quite see how that's any of your business anymore."

Ron's face feel, and Hermione felt a twinge in her heart at his expression. "Ron, I'm so–"

"Granger."

Hermione, agitated at having been interrupted, turned to the blond Slytherin, wondering what on earth he could want to speak with her about. He was wearing a wicked smile that sent shivers down her spine. "What, Malfoy?" she spat, trying not to let him get to her.

He staggered back, clutching his heart. "You wound me, Granger. Is that any tone of voice to have with your first?" he grinned, knowing she would realize instantly what he was talking about.

The young witch's eyes narrowed and she stomped toward him. She brought her hand back to slap him, but was stopped by his voice. "This is how it started last time, if I recall," he whispered so that only she could hear.

Feeling a blush spread across her face, she lowered her hand and turned to storm away, but came face-to-neck with Harry, instead. "That's twice you've said something like that, Malfoy," he said quietly, a hint of a threat in his voice. "I suggest you don't say it again."

Hermione looked up at her friend and felt relief for an instant.

Only an instant, however, because Malfoy had started to speak again.

"I only speak the truth, Potter. Now, I wonder if you're mad because I shagged her first, or because she hasn't told you about it yet?" he asked, his voice sweet as venom. "I mean you three _are_ as close as three peas in a pod, aren't you?"

Hermione, still looking up into Harry's eyes, saw his expression falter at Malfoy's words. _Don't listen to him. Don't let this be the first time in your life you believe him, Harry._

Her heart rose and then instantly plummeted at his response.

"I trust her, Malfoy," he said forcefully, wrapping a protective arm around her.

Hermione could feel the malicious glee just rolling off Malfoy at Harry's statement. "Alright, Potter, have it your way. But I suggest you sit down with everyone's favorite little witch here and discuss her whereabouts after she broke up with the Weasel," he said nonchalantly. "I'm sure it will be an eye-opening little chat."

Harry looked down at her and their eyes met.

His green eyes widened in shock, and he unwound his arm from her shoulders. "You didn't…" he breathed, stepping back.

"Goyle, put the Weasel down so he can join in on this fun," Malfoy chimed in from behind her.

Hermione was so concentrated on Harry's outraged visage that she barely registered the thunk of Ron hitting the ground.

"Harry, I'm sorry," she whispered, effectively confirming his suspicions.

Shaking his head, the Boy-Who-Lived continued to back away, as if she were a horrible thing he couldn't stand to be around.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, stepping up beside Harry, looking between his best friend and his former girlfriend.

The lost look on Harry's face was more than enough to undo her. He just stared at her like he didn't know who she was. "Nothing, Ron. Let head back to the Burrow," he sighed, turning and walking away, every part of his body language defeated.

With one last perplexed look at Hermione, Ron turned and followed Harry out the door yelling for him to wait up and explain what happened.

"You see, Granger, the price that betrayal carries?" Malfoy whispered into her ear, his voice sad.

Suddenly seeing red, Hermione spun around and smacked him.

"You bastard!" she screamed, as she started trying to punch him, but in the end, only managed to pound weakly on his chest as her grief overcame her. "How could you…" she whispered through her tears as she fell into his chest and hung on for dear life.

* * *

If he had known there would be a crying female clinging to his two hundred galleon shirt at the end of the fiasco, he never would have said anything in the first place. 

But now, looking around at the near empty pub – there were two people passed out at a table in the corner, and Tom, who Draco knew he could pay to keep quiet about the whole thing – he severely regretted taking his frustration out on Granger.

Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around her and started patting her on the back awkwardly, like had seen other people do when they were trying to comfort people.

It wasn't anything he had ever actually done before.

"I'm sorry."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and it seemed as if time stopped because of them.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and red, her cheeks all puffy and blotchy, and stared at him, disbelieving.

He couldn't understand why he would have said that, and he really didn't understand this sudden urge to kiss her and make her see that it would be okay.

So he did the only thing he could think of.

"Now that I have humiliated myself, would you kindly let go of my shirt?" he asked, trying to be as snooty as possible.

It had the desired effect, seeing as she let go of him like she had been burned.

"Go to hell you little ferret," she spat, grabbing her wand and apparating out of the pub with a 'snap.'

Looking at Goyle, who was still staring at him wide-eyed, Draco shook his head tiredly. "What a wonderful summer this is going to be," he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

* * *

Hermione collapsed onto her bed, pulled a pillow over her head, and screamed. 

_I can't believe I almost kissed him!_

With another sigh, she threw the pillow off the bed stared at her ceiling again.

Unlike most girls her age, her walls were relatively unadorned, except for a few pictures of her friends and family.

Most of her walls were covered in bookshelves, which were in turn covered in books.

She knew that she wouldn't find any comfort in her books, however.

"I almost kissed him," she whispered.

"Who did you almost kiss?"

Hermione sat up in bed, her mother's voice causing her a mild shock. "No one, mum. It was no one."

With a disbelieving smile, her mother nodded. "Sure it was. Lunch is ready if you're hungry."

The younger Granger nodded and followed her mother to the dining room.

He's no one. He has to be.

* * *

Goyle knew something had just happened. 

He also knew that what had just happened, _couldn't_ have happened.

It was like violating natural law.

Things like this just didn't happen.

The large boy knew he wasn't the fastest broom in the shed, but he was a tack smarter and a lot more observant than people gave him credit for.

Still, there was no way what he just observed could have ever occurred.

Draco almost… 

No. This is Draco Malfoy.

_He wouldn't even think about…_

There was a pause in his mental train as he took in the appearance of his friend.

All this wondering wasn't getting him anywhere, so he decided to vocalize his musings, knowing Draco's response would either confirm or deny it.

"You almost kissed her."

This seemed to snap the blond out of his stupor. The Prince turned to him, wide-eyed. "Shut up. I did not," he said in a huff, grabbing his suitcase and storming up the stairs.

_Shite._

_He almost kissed her._

* * *

_Author's Note_

Sorry about taking so long to get this one up. Work has hell.

Please, review! They are the lifeblood of the author!

Thank you for reading.

-Damien


	5. Chapter Four

_Chapter 4 _

The moment he had seen his family's eagle owl sitting outside his window, he had known.

_The Manor. __11pm_

It was a simple line on a scrap of parchment, but Draco knew what it really was.

After two weeks of hiding in the _Leaky Cauldron,_ he had been called upon.

Tonight would be his first night.

He couldn't help but to feel ashamed as he looked at the time for tenth time in as many minutes.

_10:30__… I'm already late. _

With a sigh, he stood from the bed and made his way to his suitcase on the vanity.

Whenever his father stated a time, it was always understood that Draco needed to be there one hour before, so the elder Malfoy could brief him on the proper protocol and etiquette for the situation.

_Not tonight,_ he thought with a sneer as he lifted the lid.

Staring back at him was a sight that struck fear throughout the wizarding world

A plain, white mask.

Closing the lid, he returned to his seat on the bed and looked once more to the clock on the wall.

_29 minutes… _

He continued to stall, making excuses to himself about why he couldn't leave yet.

When the clock reached 10:55, however, there was no more stalling, no more excuses.

With a deep breath, and a prayer to Merlin, he apparated.

* * *

It was cold. 

That was the predominant thought running through Draco's head as he crouched in the bushes with Goyle.

_The middle of summer and it has to be this bloody cold_, he thought bitterly as he shivered again.

"What are we waiting for?"

Draco turned to his friend, who was having a hard time concealing his massive frame in the short row of bushes, and sighed. "Are you really so eager to get on with this, Goyle?" he asked irritably.

The other boy narrowed his eyes. "Eager to get it over and done with," he huffed, obviously insulted.

Shaking his head, the blond turned back to face the entrance of the house they were hiding in front of. "We're waiting for him to arrive."

The estate was out in the countryside, and was by all means very elegant… for a muggle. The grounds stretched for nearly two kilometers in all directions from the main building before meeting anything else. A well manicured lawn, dotted with trees and a spectacular garden, spread out in front of the main house.

All in all, Draco was utterly unimpressed.

Looking down, his sour disposition only worsened when he saw several insects making themselves comfortable on his seven-hundred galleon Siberian Ice-Tongue dragon hide boots.

An endangered species, it was only legal to harvest anything from their bodies once they were already dead – from natural causes, of course. Once they died, however, the freezing cold of the Siberian desert made their skin unworkable and impenetrable within a matter of hours. The only way to acquire anything from a Siberian Ice-Tongue, then, was through illegal means, as his father had, or to come across a merchant who had a streak of blind luck, as Draco had.

The blasted unseasonable chill was the reason he had brought these out with him tonight, and he was thankful that his feet were warm, at the very least. He wasn't exactly thrilled about anything else tonight, after all.

From what his father told him, they were here to kidnap a very important member of the House of Lords, of the muggles' Parliament.

The Slytherin Prince sneered at the thought. _Who are muggles to consider themselves lords?_

At that moment, a vehicle of some kind pulled into view. Draco racked his brain, trying to remember what it was called.

Draco saw a man climb out of the back, and all thoughts of the machine's name were forgotten.

This was the man they were here for.

Adjusting his posture, Draco steeled himself to make his move.

Just when he was about to stand and start throwing curses around, a small voice came from the door to his left.

"Why are you home so late, Daddy?"

Draco froze.

He couldn't help it.

There, standing not ten feet away, was a little girl. No more than six years old, she was wearing an overly large shirt for pajamas and dragging a stuffed teddy bear almost bigger than her. Draco couldn't help but smile softly as she yawned.

The man in question, Lord Nelson Maines, smiled as he walked up to her and swept her up in his arms, throwing her up in the air in the process. "Well, my little tart," he said, poking her nose and earning a giggle. "I had a very important meeting with the Prime Minister that lasted much longer than it should have."

"Well, you should tell him you need to be home to read me a bedtime story," she replied, stating what she clearly thought was the obvious.

The man laughed, and Draco noticed it was a hearty laugh.

The kind happy people have.

"Should I?" he asked, a trying to restrain his smile and remain stern.

The little girl nodded emphatically, her face serious.

Losing control over his features, the man's bright smile appeared like a rainbow.

It was comforting and awe-inspiring.

Draco couldn't help but wish his father smiled like that.

Before the scene could play out any longer, Draco saw movement in the bushes opposite him.

It was time.

Still, he couldn't move.

Even as Goyle rushed by him and attacked the bodyguards, bringing them down with a few rudimentary spells and his fists.

He watched in detached fascination as the Lady Maines, who had been standing in the door as her husband spoke to their daughter, turned to flee, only to have a green spark of magic slam into her back and send her to the ground.

Draco knew she would not rise.

He felt a strange sort of satisfaction as one of the bodyguards pulled out one of their explosive wands and managed to hit Avery in the side. The wizard stumbled, clutching his stomach.

Before the man could fire again, however, Goyle landed a solid blow to the back of his head, effectively knocking him unconscious.

The blond thought he heard his name, and started looking around in confusion.

Out on the expansive lawn, he saw the man running, with MacNair trying to keep up with him.

The older wizard was no match for the speed of a desperate man, however.

Green, red and blue sped past the racing man, who was clever enough to know the lights meant trouble if they hit him.

Draco, blood suddenly pumping, found himself running after them.

Quickly, he overtook MacNair.

Within seconds, he was close enough to the target that any spell he threw wouldn't likely miss, except by divine intervention.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" he shouted, coming to a stop as the spell left his wand.

A horrified and sick feeling came over him, and time seemed to slow.

For there, in Lord Maines' arms, was his daughter, looking back at him with absolute terror in her eyes.

Then the spell hit, and the man went down, the girl tumbling from his arms.

Shakily, Draco walked over to where they had fallen.

_Move._

Draco sat on his haunches and started to shake the girl.

_Move, damn you! Move, please move!_

Suddenly, he felt a hand close around his ankle, and he spun around, falling the rest of the way to the ground as he did.

Lord Maines had a hold of him.

"Don't touch… her…" he growled, his face livid and pained.

Tearing his foot out of the other man's grasp Draco scrambled to his feet and backed away.

_No, no… He can't be alive… Potter's the only… no… NO!_

As he stood there, frozen in fear and disbelief, he watched the man crawl over to his daughter and cover her, trying to shield her.

Draco watched his breath come once, twice…

And then no more.

It struck him then, the sin he had committed.

_Oh, Merlin… _he thought before doubling over and retching, most of it landing on his robes.

How he ended up on the ground, he couldn't figure out. He looked up and saw MacNair standing over him, breathing hard and holding his hand out.

"First one's always the hardest, Malfoy," he said as Draco took his hand. "You'll get the stomach for it in no time."

The older Death Eater turned and walked away, laughing.

It took every ounce of self-control Draco possessed not to add the arrogant man's name to his death toll.

"Aurors!"

The shout came from near the house, and, as Draco looked around, he saw wizards popping into existence all around him, firing curses as they came.

Without a thought, Draco started throwing them right back.

He had become a marionette.

It felt as if he had surrendered control of his body; that his soul had been removed, and now he was looking down on the raging battle from somewhere high above.

Absentmindedly, he counted the number of Aurors he was facing.

_Twenty-five, give or take a few_, he thought, an insane laugh bubbling from his throat.

He watched as he spun and dodged the numerous curses that were all now being sent his way.

_Twenty…_

All the other Death Eaters who had accompanied him were either dead, or had apparated away as soon as the Aurors had appeared.

_Eighteen…_

Another fell to his flurry of curses, and Draco wasn't even sure if he was saying the words, or if the magic was just flowing from him.

Either way, his enemies were falling, one after the other.

_Sixteen…_

Not all who fell, died.

Draco was using a variety of curses, and only used the Killing Curse when there was a true opening.

So far, six were dead.

_Fifteen… _

Then he saw Goyle, fighting for his life.

He watched as he plowed through the Aurors surrounding him and made his way to Draco.

The blond picked off three wizards who had their wands raised to hit his friend in the back.

_Twelve… _

Goyle returned the favor quickly, rushing behind four who were foolish enough to group together. They were unconscious in a flash of fists.

_Eight… _

The remaining Aurors spread out in a wide circle, trying to contain the two Death Eaters who had decimated more than two-thirds of the Aurors at the scene.

"Give yourselves up!" one of them shouted. Draco thought he recognized him, but it was too dark to be sure. "You can't hope to win."

The Slytherin Prince began laughing again. It was an eerie, sinister laugh, and it gave the Aurors pause. The voice that issued from his throat sounded foreign to him.

"You've lost soooo many already. How do you think _you_ can hope…" he stopped talking abruptly, as if forgetting that he had been talking.

Then, without warning, he was a blur of motion, and lights filled the small clearing, each of the wizards surrounding them falling almost simultaneously.

"… to win?" he finished, standing up straight as another insane giggle issued from his throat.

_One. _

Draco turned to the last remaining Auror and scowled.

The man's revolving, wild eye was fixed firmly on him.

_Mad-Eye._

"Draco Malfoy!" the old man barked, causing the blond to flinch. "Grew up to be just like your old man! Hah! I knew you were nothing more than scum! Just like him!"

Draco returned to his body then, and stared around at the carnage around him.

He wanted to refute the ancient Auror's words. He wanted to say he wasn't a monster like his father.

But he couldn't.

He had killed.

So many were dead by his hand.

"Well, boy, come at me! You'll fail where so many others have!"

Draco looked up, tears running unnoticed down his face.

_I have to kill him. He knows who I am. If he lives, he'll tell. I'll go to Azkaban. _

_I'll never get to see her again. _

Looking down, he saw his hands shaking violently.

"Moody?" he asked, his voice quivering noticeably. "If I lose, kill me."

He looked up into the twisted face of the man who had opposed everything his family had ever stood for.

Single-handedly, he had put evil behind bars for more than fifty years.

But evil always rose again.

After staring hard at the boy for several minutes, the old man nodded.

Raising his wand, Draco let a sad smile cross his face. "I'm glad there are people like you in the world to stop people like me, Alastor Moody."

"So am I," was the old man's terse reply.

Then it began.

Two flashes of green met in midair and exploded, but neither combatant took notice, as one had took off running in a defensive dodge, while the other trusted in his defensive magic and instincts to keep him alive as they had for years.

Three flashes of red and two of white flew by Draco, each grazing his robes, but none actually touching him.

He was battling for his life, but he couldn't get in a spell edgewise.

The ancient Auror's reputation was well deserved, and quickly, the Slytherin Prince grew desperate.

Making a split decision, he rushed the Auror.

His seeker reflexes allowed him to see the spells coming at him and slip through the constant barrage.

Suddenly, he was behind the old man.

Without thinking, he spun and shouted.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

Once more, time slowed as the man turned, grim resignation on his features.

He took the spell in the chest and fell with a sickening thud.

The blond snake felt his breath slow as he looked down on the legendary Auror.

_I killed Alastor Moody._

It was an odd sensation, because he didn't feel sick, as he had before. He didn't feel good about it, by any means.

He just felt that the other man had wanted a death like this. Here, on a battlefield, instead of old and infirmed and stuck in bed.

"Draco?"

Blinking, he looked up at Goyle, who had been standing silently, watching the battle unfold. For some reason, he was too blurry to make out.

"Gregory?" he asked, unsure.

Then, his vision faded as the ground suddenly rushed up to meet him.

* * *

Hermione stared at her ceiling. 

With a sigh, she turned and looked at the digital watch sitting on her nightstand.

_Two twenty-seven__… I've been lying here for five hours… _

With a strangled scream, she threw the covers off her and stormed, quietly, out of her room.

She hadn't been able to sleep for three days.

Not since Harry had shown up at her doorstep.

Randomly, while her parents had been at work, he had rung her doorbell.

_"Harry!" she yelped in surprise. She hadn't expected him to ever speak to her again. _

_"Hermione," he nodded, his voice tight. "This won't take long." _

_The chestnut-haired witch felt her heart breaking all over again at those words. _

_"O-okay…" she said quietly. _

_There was a long pause before Harry started speaking again, and Hermione could see that he was trying to keep his composure. He was trying not to explode. _

_"I spoke with Ginny, and we told Ron what happened between you and Malfoy. I was… upset…" he paused as an ironic chuckle left his lips. "You know me better than that, I guess." _

_Hermione smiled softly, because she knew that 'upset' was the understatement of the millennium. _

_"We just don't understand, Hermione," he huffed, finally losing his cool and throwing his hands in the air. "_Why_? How could you? You think everything through. You always make the most logical decision. You… You aren't… Why?" _

_Tears were running down her cheeks freely, and she didn't bother wiping them away. _

_"I'm sorry Harry, but I don't understand it either," she sobbed. "It happened. I had a lapse in judgment… I didn't _want_ to be the normal level-headed girl I always am. I wanted to do something rash and thoughtless, something I didn't have to think about." _

_His emerald eyes grew hard. "So you did Malfoy." _

_"Harry!" she shouted, appalled at his word choice more than his accusatory tone. _

_Seeming to realize what he had said, the dark-haired boy blushed and shook his head. "Sorry, I'm a rodder, I know. I didn't mean for it to come out like that," he apologized. _

_There was another uncomfortable silence before he sighed and took out his wand. _

_"I just want you to know that I don't want to throw away our friendship, but I can't look at you right now without thinking about… _it."

_Hermione watched as he wiped away the tears that were threatening to fall down his face. "If you're ever in trouble…" he paused and took a deep breath, trying to calm his breathing. "If you _ever_ need us, we'll be there. But, we need to time, right now. Okay?" _

_"Thank you, Harry," she whispered, not trusting her voice to speak any louder. _

_A sad smile flitted across his face before he nodded. With a 'crack,' he was gone._

Hermione sighed and shook her head to rid herself of the memory. Reaching the kitchen, she opened the fridge to see if there was anything she could have for a midnight snack.

Pulling out some pudding, she sighed and walked over to the couch, turning on the news as she did.

_"…scene at Lord Maines __Yorkshire__ estate earlier. The maid, hearing a commotion called the authorities. All we have been told at the moment is there are no survivors. _

Hermione's spoon stopped halfway to her mouth as she stared at the screen.

There, hovering over the home of Lord Maines, was the Dark Mark.

"_In a statement by Secret Intelligence Service Senior Director Charles Lockwood, the attack is related to the rash of terrorist attacks that have been sweeping __England__ for the past year. Claiming responsibility for these attacks is a group of individuals known as 'Death Eaters.' Their leader is only known by the name 'Voldemort.' _

_"All victims of these attacks have been killed by an apparently untraceable means, as few have had any visible wounds and none suffered any fatal injuries. In the words of one coroner, all the victims seemed like they were 'scared to death, literally.'"_

Hermione tuned out the rest of the news report.

_I wonder where he is…_ she thought sadly, hoping against hope that he hadn't been involved.

* * *

Draco opened his eyes to stare at nothing. 

That's what it seemed like to him, at least.

Ignoring his pounding headache and aching body, he sat up in bed and looked around.

White ceiling, white walls, white sheets.

Nothing but white.

_Where in the – _

Before he could finish his thought, the door opened and a man in a white robe walked in, looking down at a clipboard.

When he looked up, he seemed startled to see Draco awake, much less sitting up in bed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked in a thick Scottish accent, walking over to check some of the machines that Draco now realized he was hooked up to.

Instead of answering, Draco shot back with a question of his own. "Where am I?"

Looking up from some strange thing that had lines and kept beeping, the man smiled. "You're in Gogarburn Hospital in Edinburgh. Why? Where should you be?" he asked, a small quirk to his lips that made Draco want to punch him.

_A muggle hospital in __Scotland__. Terrific._

"I should be in London," he muttered irritably, ripping off the things attached to him.

"Hey!" he shouted, making to hold Draco and stop him. "Don't –"

Before he could, though, Draco had him by the throat, his face an inch away.

"Don't. Tell. Me. What. To. Do," he hissed, throwing the doctor onto the bed. With a growl, he snatched his robe and boots from the bag he saw on a countertop and stormed out, a sea of confused looks on the faces of the nurses and doctors he passed in the hallway.

No one tried to stop him, however. Feeling his robe pocket, he found his wand and pulled it out. As he went to stick it in his back pocket, he realized he wasn't wearing any pants. Looking down at himself, he saw that he was only wearing a thin paper gown.

With another growl, he pulled his boots on, wrapped his robe around him, and continued on his way out of the hospital.

_Goyle must have dumped me off here, thinking no one would recognize me,_ he thought, his anger lifting slightly as he thought of the trouble his friend must have gone through to get him some medical attention without raising any suspicions n the wizarding world.

Reaching the fresh, cool air outside, Draco paused to get his bearings. It was still dark outside, so he hoped it was still the same day.

After a few minutes of standing there looking lost, he remembered he had never been to Edinburgh and slumped his shoulders with a sigh.

Shaking his head, he took off down the street.

After walking for several minutes, he passed a store front that had several boxes with moving pictures on them.

_Televisions_, he remembered.

_"And we bring you live to the scene at Lord Maines __Yorkshire__ estate. Authorities are not letting anyone onto the property, and all we have been told at the moment is that there are no survivors."_

The words struck Draco like a hammer.

_No survivors…_

He stumbled back, the shock making his limbs tremble.

Making his way to the alley beside the building, he threw up for the second time that night.

Tears began making their way down his cheeks as he leaned against the wall and slid to the ground.

He couldn't forget the terrified look on the little girl's face.

How she was clinging so tightly to her father.

The way her face looked when she died.

He sat there for hours, trying to force the images out of his head.

No matter how he tried, though, his memories wouldn't relinquish their hold on his mind.

The alley was dark and dirty, and refuse littered it.

It was a place he would never be in the light of day.

But it wasn't daytime.

The sun wouldn't rise for another four hours.

So he sat there, tears running down his aristocratic cheeks, vomit staining the hem of his black robe.

He stared at the sky, his vision blurred, and let out an inhuman wail.

* * *

Hermione sighed as she dried her hair. 

It had been truly another sleepless night, and she had found that a shower was the only way she had been able to cope with the tiredness brought on by them.

_If I were a weaker person, I suppose I would be considering suicide right now,_ she mused.

There was a sharp rapping at her window, causing her to jump.

She turned and saw a _Daily Prophet_ owl sitting there, waiting to be let in.

After giving the bird a treat and a knut, she took the paper and sat on her bed.

She opened it and felt her heart stop.

**Legendary Auror Slain! **

_Alastor Moody One of 11 Aurors Killed in Defense of Muggle Duke_

_In a successful attack on Muggle lord Duke Nelson Maines and family, eleven Aurors were killed, including the legendary Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody. Deployed to the scene at when sever magical disturbances were detected, the team of Aurors arrived too late. _

_According to several surviving Aurors, two Death Eaters managed to defeat the entire squad of twenty-five. _

_That leads this reporter to question the… _

Hermione stopped reading when the article went into the normal opinionated piece most _Prophet_ articles degenerated into.

Hesitating for only a moment, she threw on her clothes, yelled down to her mother that she was leaving, and apparated with a 'pop.'

She was going to Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

* * *

Author's Notes

Sorry, this took longer than it should have.

I was in the process of uploading the next chapter when this popped into my head. And the dangerous thing about ideas popping into my head is that they will not go away until they are assauged.

As always, thank you for reading

-Damien J. Frost


	6. Chapter Five

_Chapter 5 _

Hermione stared in the mirror as she applied her lipstick. It was the same shade as her lips, so she didn't quite understand why she was even bothering with it. She didn't put on any mascara, for she knew it would only run, and there was only a light dusting of blush on her cheeks, just enough to enhance her features.

She opted for a black pantsuit with a simple white shirt, not believing a dress was appropriate for the occasion.

Dresses were for celebrations.

After blotting her lips, she stood there, looking at her reflection, but, for some reason, she couldn't see herself.

The young genius wasn't sure when she had changed from the snobbish, ugly, bucktooth girl she had been, but she wished everyday for those days back.

Back when all she worried about was getting good grades and learning all she could and before boys became involved in her pursuit of happiness.

She longed for not wondering whose funeral she would be attending next.

After a week of mourning and memorials, today was Alastor Moody's funeral.

The news that an entire squad of Aurors – led by none other than Mad-Eye himself – had been utterly defeated had rocked the wizarding world.

Moody, at the request of the new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, had come out of retirement to train and lead an elite group of Aurors.

The twenty-five Aurors were handpicked by the legendary dark-wizard catcher, and they were taught to be the best, and to be the greatest threat to Death Eater raids.

They were not supposed to be beaten by two Death Eaters.

Fourteen had survived, but only six were considered fit to return to active duty immediately. Of the other eight, five were likely to never be able to return to service.

All the survivors said the same thing, though.

There may have been two Death Eaters there, but one defeated them.

Some spoke of the laughter that seemed to permeate their very souls. Others, of the maniacal glee he danced with as he battled.

One thing was clear, however.

The Death Eaters had a dangerous new soldier.

Hermione sighed as she sat on her bed, pulling on her hose and high heels.

She looked around the room she occupied at Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

The chestnut-haired witch had been here for nearly a week, and she suspected she would remain here for the rest of the summer.

Her parents had been sent into hiding, with Arthur Weasley and Professor Dumbledore lending the most weight to the argument.

Hermione was well known as a friend of Harry's, and to get to her – and though her, Harry – there was a good chance Voldemort would target her parents.

So, they had disappeared to some safe house Dumbledore had set up for them in France.

Now, Hermione was alone.

Harry had said she could stay here as long as she needed to, but beyond that, he hadn't said very much at all to her.

Every time she would enter a room, he would leave. She would ask him a question, and receive nothing but monosyllabic answers, if she received one at all.

It was frustrating to be so close to her friend and have him treat her with indifference at best, contempt at the worst.

She could already feel the tears welling up in her eyes, and she wiped them away quickly before her mascara could be ruined.

A soft knock drew her attention, and she turned to her door as it opened. Harry's face peeked through, a soft sadness in his eyes.

"Hermione, I…" he started, before stopping and taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I've been horrible to you since you arrived, and I've no right to be. Not now. I told you we'd be here if you ever needed anything, and then I act like a complete arse.

"So, I'm sorry… yeah…"

Not being able to contain herself any longer, Hermione threw herself at the Harry, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. "Thank you, Harry…" she whispered between sobs. "Thank you so much."

They stood in silence for a few minutes before separating.

"We should get going," he whispered before walking out.

As she followed him down to the fireplace, she realized he still hadn't forgiven her, but he was trying, and that was all she could ask for.

* * *

Harry sat in the pew and waited for the ceremony to begin. It had been a difficult couple of days, both for him personally and for the entire Order. He had lost a mentor of sorts, and everyone had lost an important symbol in the fight against the darkness.

Moody, in his will, had requested a small, private ceremony, with only those he named invited. He looked around at the surprisingly large number of people already seated around him, as well as the last of those still filtering in.

The Weasleys were sitting to his left, with Ron directly beside him. Molly was holding her composure admirably, Harry thought, and he couldn't fault the endless stream of tears that ran down her cheeks. Arthur had one arm around his wife, holding her head to his shoulder. Tears could be seen trailing down his face as well.

His other arm lay across the shoulders of his only daughter, and Harry felt his heart go out to her as she sat there, staring blankly ahead. Ginny's face held the same lost and unbelieving look many of the mourners gathered shared.

Charlie sat next to his mother, offering as much emotional support to her as she could manage, but he seemed like he was taking more than he was giving. The twins sat next to him, their eyes dry, but all joking and smiles gone from their faces. Harry thought there was something very disturbing about the picture. For as long as he had known them, the twins could think of anything to lighten the mood of any situation.

Not here, though. Not today.

Percy had not shown his face, had not even owled his parents, since well before the failed defense of Lord Maines. He had been specified in Moody's will as _not_ invited.

Harry couldn't find fault with the late Auror's decision.

Bill and Fleur had not arrived yet, and Harry doubted they would make it at all. The second eldest Weasley was currently holed up in northern Britain with Remus Lupin, tracking the movements of the major werewolf packs and his wife was in France with her family expecting their first child.

_It's a sad state of affairs when a husband can't be with his wife_, Harry thought with a somber shake of his head.

The raven-haired boy's eyes drifted across Ron, and he felt a moment of pity for his redheaded best friend. He seemed to take it upon himself to be the strong one for the Weasleys through all this, even though it was more than apparent to Harry that he wanted nothing more than to cling to his mother and cry.

With a sigh, Harry set his hand on the other boy's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Ron merely nodded in acknowledgement, keeping his eyes straight ahead so he wouldn't break down.

Hearing slight shuffling to his right, Harry looked over to see Hermione standing and giving Tonks a tight hug. The two women were clinging together for dear life, and he couldn't help the slight wash of anger that quickly passed through him at the sight.

This was the girl that had been one of his closest confidants and friends through all his years in the wizarding world, and he felt ashamed at the how angry he was with her for her transgression, especially here, when they were remembering a fallen hero.

But it was the person she committed the transgression with that merited most of his anger, and had indeed managed to garner most of his hatred over the years.

For all any of them knew, he was responsible in some way for the death of the man they were here to honor.

So, for all his trying he couldn't find it in his heart to forgive her completely.

Before he could ruminate any longer, the congregation fell silent, and Harry looked up to see Dumbledore standing at the front of the audience.

There was a brief period of calm that settled over the crowd as they looked upon the composed Headmaster. He had been Alastor Moody's greatest friend, and Harry could see the toll of losing him had taken on the aged man.

The first tear escaped his eye then, but he clamped down on it quickly and forced himself to remain as composed as his mentor.

"Friends, thank you for coming. Today we are here to celebrate the life of a man that gave his over to defending ours." He paused, his mask of composure slipping slightly before he could restrain himself.

"For more than a half a century, Alastor Moody was committed to the pursuit of justice. He made many enemies throughout his career, but he also made many friends. Trust came hard to Alastor, so you could easily consider yourself lucky to be counted as a friend by him, as all present are.

"I first met Alastor sixty years ago. I was beginning my tenure at Hogwarts as a professor, and he was a troublesome seventh-year. It's not very difficult for me to admit that we did not like each other much," he said with a smile. "He considered me an arrogant blowhard, and I considered him an obnoxious delinquent."

"This animosity between us continued through his Auror training, as I was great friends with the head of the Auror department of the time, Jackson Tribadou, and I often stuck my head in to see how his new recruits were doing.

"At the beginning of the First War, however, things changed quickly between us. I was taking a stroll through the countryside when I was assaulted by a score of Death Eaters. At the time, I had not acquired all the intelligence now in my possession, and therefore, things were looking quite bleak for me. Then, a young man appeared, and, standing back-to-back, we drove of the villains. Alastor lost his eye in that battle, and a strong friendship was borne from the fires of battle," he smiled sadly, and, though his voice was strong, his shoulders slumped a little, and Harry could see the loss he was feeling in every motion the Headmaster made.

Turning to the casket laying behind him, Dumbledore set his hand upon it and whispered a few words. Facing the audience, the sad smile remained on his face as he raised his hands. "The floor is open for anyone else who would like to say a few words."

Arthur stood and walked to stand beside Dumbledore. He spoke of his constant wariness of the aged Auror, and admitted to being the one to create the "Mad-Eye" moniker for him. His short speech brought smiles to the faces of the congregation, and Harry was thankful for the man's truly optimistic nature.

Tonks came next, and she spoke briefly of the man who had been her mentor before she completely broke into tears and was led back to her seat by Dumbledore.

More and more people spoke, most Harry had never met, but almost all spoke of a time when Alastor Moody had saved their lives, or had given them hope in their hour of need.

When no one else stood, Dumbledore resumed his previous position. "If anyone else would like to speak, the floor is still…" Dumbledore trailed off and his eyes widened in surprise as he stared at the doors.

Harry turned to see what had caught the Headmaster's attention. His own eyes widened in shock at the man standing there in a crisp, black muggle suit.

He was barely cognizant of the elder man asking, "Can I help you?"

The raven haired-boy's mouth set in an angry line as the newcomer walked confidently down the aisle, his bodyguard one step behind him. He stopped before the assembly and looked over the crowd, his eyes locking momentarily with the girl seated to Harry's right.

After a moment of composing himself, Draco Malfoy spoke.

"I have something to say."

* * *

Draco looked over those in attendance and saw many familiar faces. Many of those seated before him were Aurors, and many had been through his home over the years in raids, looking for Dark Art artifacts.

He could see anger and outrage on the faces of many, shock and confusion on the faces of others.

Then his eyes met _hers_. His mind flashed of the night they had spent together, the night he had let down all of his shields and just let himself _be._

He remembered how she was the driving thought that had led him to fight for his survival against the man they were here to honor.

The man he had killed.

He broke eye contact and cleared his throat. "I have something to say."

Draco paused for a moment, waiting to see if anyone would contest him. He saw Potter begin to stand, but _she_ clamped down on his arm, giving him a look that made him return to his seat.

After a moment of silence, he continued.

"I know many of you are wondering what I am doing here, I myself have wondered that. But yesterday, I received an invitation to this memorial," he began, holding up the piece of parchment as proof.

He saw several people trade confused looks at this, but he forged ahead. "At first, I didn't understand why he would want me here. I thought maybe it was because his imposter turned me into a bouncing ferret in fourth year," he cracked a smile, and saw others do the same. "But I quickly dismissed that idea. He was a man with no regrets, no apologies, not even for a young delinquent.

"Then I thought about how he had spent so much time in the company of men like my father. Men he spent his life trying to put behind bars for their misdeeds, and this made more sense. I'm not here because I liked the man or because he liked me," a few people grew angry at the admission, as if they thought he was being disrespectful. "At times in my life, it seemed to me as if he was waging a single-handed war against my father and my family name, not that my name carries much clout anymore," he admitted, a self-deprecating smile creeping onto his face. "But yesterday, when I received the invitation, I realized he wasn't fighting against my father or my family. He was fighting against what they stood for.

"It's no secret to any of us gathered that my family has long been supporters of the Dark Arts. Malfoys of generations past can be tied in some way, shape or form to some of the greatest atrocities in wizarding and muggle history. But this one man fought for all he was worth against that. Not against the people who committed those acts, but against the chaos itself. Through his actions, he proved himself to be one of the most selfless men of our age.

"Though I never truly met him, I believe the one goal in Alastor Moody's life was to make the world a little better, a little safer, for those came after."

He paused for a moment, and looked at the reaction his words were having on the crowd. Many still looked suspicious of him, but he could tell his words had struck a cord in most of those assembled.

Turning to the casket that lay behind him, he bowed his head. "Alastor Moody, I'm sorry it came so late, but you have my respect."

After another moment he faced the audience again, furiously wiping away the lone tear that had escaped. "Thank you."

His head down, he walked quickly back up the aisle, Goyle at his heels.

Before he reached the doors, the voice of the Headmaster reached him, causing him to pause.

"Lord Malfoy, thank you."

Not looking back, Draco nodded stiffly and continued on his way.

* * *

Hermione watched him walk by, and wanted so bad to reach out to him, to touch him. His words had touched her, and not because of the words themselves, but because he had spoken truly. He had dropped his masks, and spoken from his heart.

"Hermione."

Jumping a little, she turned to Harry, who was glaring at her. "Yes?" she asked, a little guilt creeping into her voice.

"Don't."

Shaking her head, she pulled him into a hug, trying to convey all her sorrow, all her uncertainty to her friend. "I'm sorry," she whispered before standing and quickly leaving to chase the blond down.

She heard a commotion behind her, and turned to see Ron trying to leave the pew and follow her, but Harry and Mr. Weasley were restraining him. Their eyes locked for a moment, and she could see all the pain, betrayal and anger that suffused his face. With a half-sob, she turned away and ran, her high heels clicking loudly as she did.

Reaching sunlight, she saw the two boys reach the bottom of the stairs and pull their wands out, preparing to apparate.

"Draco!"

At her yell, she saw the blond stop and look up at her, but her heel broke and she pitched forward, her eyes widening in surprise and fear as the steep steps of the building rushed toward her.

Just before her head connected with the unyielding stone, however, she stopped.

She heard condescending tone as she floated into an upright position. "That's twice I've saved you from falling, Granger."

Looking at him, she calmly reached down and removed her shoes as he levitated her down the remaining stairs. "Well, sorry to be such a burden on your limited capacity for good will, Malfoy," she shot back automatically. Setting down softly in front of him, she saw the hurt run through his eyes at her comment and her face fell. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it…" she apologized, her eyes welling up with tears.

"I know," he responded softly, nodding. "Natural response and all that."

There was a brief moment of awkward silence before Malfoy turned to his friend. "Gregory, could you excuse us for a few moments?"

The larger boy gave his friend a suspicious look before nodding and stepping a respectable distance away.

"How have you –"

"What are you –"

They both stopped and smiled as they began speaking at the same time. Draco gestured for her to go first and she obliged. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her head cocked to the side in curiosity.

"I was invited," he answered stiffly.

Hermione nodded, knowing there was more to the answer, but knowing he would be more likely to walk away than divulge if she pressed him for it.

"How have you been?" he asked, his voice showing concern, surprising her.

Shaking her head, she smiled sadly. "Not good. I've lost my friends, my family has gone into hiding, a man I always looked up to just died, and, through it all, I keep thinking about you," she said, her voice cracking with emotion at the end.

His eyes widened in surprise. He didn't bother to school his expression back to the mask of indifference. "Something's different," she said, cocking her head to the side again. "You're not hiding."

He nodded stiffly before walking away and gesturing for her to follow.

They were in north London, and Hermione looked around at the architecture of the buildings around her, wondering idly how many of them had been built after the blitz, and how many had survived that terrible time in world history.

As she looked at a building, she saw Goyle following them, still at the same respectable distance as before.

Hermione jumped slightly when the blond began speaking. "Recent events have led me to see things in a new light, Granger," he began. "Last week, after the raid on Lord Maines manor, several Death Eaters returned to my home, and they bragged about the success of their mission."

The witch's eyes widened in fear and shock as she stopped walking. "_What_?"

He continued speaking, but had stopped to face her. "One man was bragging about being the one to kill Lord Maines. He said that his daughter had been an added bonus. 'Killing two birds with one stone,' he said."

The blond raised his eyes to meet hers. "I killed him."

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth in shock.

He began walking again, and she following obediently, too stunned to do much else.

"I was so angry that a child had been killed, that I lost my head and killed him."

Hermione stopped again and grabbed his arm. "Draco, prove it to me."

His eyes narrowed in confusion at her request. "That I killed someone?"

Unable to voice her question, she shook her head harshly and started undoing his cufflink. Gone, she tried to push up his sleeve, but he yanked his arm out of her grasp before she could.

She stared at him, wide-eyed at his violent reaction. Her breath hitched as he removed his jacket and handed it to her.

Undoing his cufflink, he pushed up his sleeve and showed her his arm.

She breathed an unconscious sigh of relief as she saw it was bare.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Nodding angrily, he redid his cuff and snatched his jacket out of her grasp. "See you at school," he snapped before apparating with a 'crack.' Another crack sounded behind her a moment later, and she was left alone. Turning, she made her way back to the memorial.

As she reached it, she saw Harry and Ron standing there waiting for her, arguing quietly.

Just before she reached them she stopped in her tracks once more.

His arm was bare.

Completely.

Her hand flew to her mouth and she fell to the ground as her knees gave out under her and her friends ran to her in alarm.

* * *

Draco growled as he stormed through the manor to his rooms, Goyle still at his heels.

Reaching his rooms, he discarded his jacket and shirt onto the bed before grabbing his arm and peeling of the parchment he had placed there with a sticking charm.

It was a trick he had learned shortly after he began school. Take a simple piece of parchment, place a texture charm on it, matching it to the tone of his skin, then apply it with a sticking charm and voila, instant perfect skin.

"You alright, Draco?" the other boy asked timidly.

With a sigh, the blond fell into a sitting chair near the fire in his study. "No, Greg, I'm not. Because she's going to figure it out, and then my fate is in her hands," he sighed, his head falling back.

A thin smile spread across his face as he remembered their conversation. _She thinks about me._

* * *

Author's Note

Wow. That took entirely too long to write. I suppose that's what I get for writing something that wasn't in my original plan. And, as a bonus, a short, semi-fluffy moment between our two lovebirds. I apologize profusely for the ridiculously long amount of time this took to post, and I can (almost) promise I will never take that long again.

Its amazing how many computer problems a single person can have when they are trying to get something done, you know?

Anyway, if all goes accordingly to (scary for me to say, considering nothing _ever _goes according to plan) the next chapter should be up sometime next week.


	7. Chapter Six

_Chapter 6_

It was a week before school was to begin, a normally happy time for Hermione.

This year, however, things had changed drastically.

One of her best friends were avoiding her, the other was trying to have as little contact as possible, her parents were in hiding, and she had just discovered her life was in utter disarray.

She was going to Diagon Alley today, and, in the past, there was nothing she enjoyed as much as shopping for school.

The widespread fear caused by the war had caused many people to flee, and, as a result, many stores had closed.

Among the stores that had closed, Ollivander's, Flourish and Blotts and Madam Malkins were the most prominent.

But, these things were not on the mind of the young genius as she stared in the mirror, the light from the rising sun creeping through the window.

She studied her reflection, noting the minor changes that had occurred over the past year, and reflecting on how different she was from the eleven year-old girl that had strolled through the Great Hall of Hogwarts, already knowing more about the building than some of the professors.

Her chestnut hair was still frizzy, but she had learned a few tricks to make it a little more manageable. She had thin and chapped lips, nothing about them had changed since her youth, and there was nothing about them to be proud of. Her teeth were no longer uneven, her front teeth no longer beaver like, thanks to a spell gone awry.

A spell cast from the hand of Draco Malfoy, the reason her life had gone insane.

She sighed as she turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face.

After she was done, she turned the water off and resumed her staring.

Her mind flashed through the events that had led her to today, where her worst fear would either be confirmed or denied.

She thought about that night, almost three months ago, when she had betrayed Ron. Because, though she had tried to convince herself otherwise, that was exactly what had happened. She had slept with Malfoy to get back at the redhead for his hurtful words.

Their breakup had been only and hour or so before, and she had not even tried to reconcile with him.

The day after came to her mind, when she and Malfoy had been acting like friends, even lovers. Laughing and playing, touching and talking, she had felt a connection with the boy who had made her life as miserable as possible for as long as she had known him.

Hermione thought of the funeral of Alastor Moody, already more than a month ago, and her heart tightened.

Malfoy had proven himself a Death Eater, his unblemished skin the only evidence her mind needed to convince her of the fact. She remembered the scars that covered his arm from wrist to shoulder, and the forearm that he had shown her held no traces of them.

It wasn't sufficient evidence to go to the authorities, even if she could bring herself to do so.

It was proof enough for her though, and she knew that he was completely aware of that.

Then, her mind brought into sharp relief the innocent question Tonks had asked her the night before.

_"Hermione, do you have an extra pad?"_

The chestnut-haired witch had shaken her head no, and the full weight of her answer didn't occur to her until the older woman had left.

She didn't have any pads because she hadn't needed any for the last three months.

Somehow, her brilliant mind had denied the early morning nausea she had been feeling, the increase in the amount of food she was eating, and the blatant fact she hadn't had a period since her night with Draco.

She had read before, in a medical journal of her father's, how periods of extreme emotional duress could sometimes cause a woman's menstruation cycle to change, or, in rare cases, to sometimes cease altogether.

Hermione prayed to every higher power she could think of that this was the case with her.

Steeling her nerves, she opened the box.

* * *

Ron shook his head to clear it as he stumbled groggily out of his room at Grimmauld Place. He and Harry had been up until three, getting drunk and playing wizard's chess, of which the redhead had managed to keep his unbeaten streak going, even when he was too drunk to see straight.

He was feeling it now, as every sound and glance of daylight he encountered caused his head to throb. It was painful, but he thoroughly believed it was worth it. The two friends had drained a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey between them, while they complained about women, the state of the world and all things in between.

Of course, the discussion of women had been focused mainly on Hermione, at least from his input.

It was difficult living in the same in the same house as her, but it was for Harry and he was sticking to his decision, no matter what.

As he neared the bathroom, he saw Harry leaning against the door. The raven-haired boy's voice drifted to him, but he couldn't make out the words through the cacophony of his hangover.

"What's up, mate?" he asked as he drew nearer.

Harry looked up, and Ron could see the same bleary-eyed look he was sure was on his own face. "Hermione's in there, and I've been standing here for fifteen minutes, trying to make sense of her crying," he replied, yawning at the end. "She won't come out, no matter what I do, and I really need to pee."

Ron laughed at his friend's predicament, and then stopped as he realized that he, too, needed to relieve himself in the worst way. So, with a sigh, he walked to the door and rapped lightly on it. "Hermione, it's me. Are you going to come out on your own, or are we going to have to come in and get you?" he asked, trying to make his tone light, but realizing quickly that he had failed miserably.

"Go away…" she moaned in response.

Sighing, Ron leaned his head against the door. "You know, I would, but there's this funny thing. You are currently occupying the only water closet here, and we both need to pee."

He heard her laugh a little, then stepped back as she unlocked the door and opened it.

The young witch's cheeks were wet and puffy, and her eyes were more bloodshot than either his or Harry's. She looked worse than he had ever thought she could.

His heart reached out to her, but his arms did not. Even through the pain she was obviously feeling, he could not bring himself to reach out and forgive her. Harry, however, seemed to have no such qualms with it. Silently, he pulled her into his arms, where she resumed her sobbing, clinging to the raven-haired boy for dear life. Harry stroked her hair, trying his best to calm her.

With a sigh, Ron pushed aside his pride for the moment and set a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly to show his support. Surprised, Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes.

A soft smile fell across his face, and suddenly she was in his arms, sobbing harder than she had been.

"I'm sorry, Ron. Please… I'm so sorry…" she mumbled into his chest as his arms went around her tightly.

"Shh, it'll be alright," he said when her tears had slowed. Harry was still standing there, a smile on his face that was somewhere between relieved and sad. "Why don't you head down to the kitchen and fix some tea, and me and Harry will be down after we clean ourselves up a little. Then, we'll talk," he said softly as he pulled his head away from her so he could see her face. "Hash things out, yeah?"

Sniffling, she nodded and gave him one last tight squeeze before turning to Harry and doing the same.

When she disappeared down the stairs at the end of the hall, the other boy turned to him and clapped him on the shoulder. "You alright, mate?"

Nodding slowly, Ron smiled. "Yeah. I am."

The hand left his shoulder, and before he could react, he heard the bathroom door shut behind him.

"Hey!" he yelled, pounding at the door.

"Sorry, mate, but I was here first," the other boy laughed, his voice muffled by the wood between them.

* * *

Draco sighed as he sat at the desk in his study, eating breakfast and going over the investment reports for the quarter. He had never been so thankful that he had the room next to his renovated into this office; it saved him from having to walk all the way to his father's study to do his work.

Setting down the report he was currently going over, he looked over the room. Something had been bothering him about it, and he could not figure out what it was.

His desk was made of oak and it was old, weathered and beaten. His father hated it, because it wasn't up to 'Malfoy standards.' Draco thought that it had character. The walls were lined with books on two sides, with a break in one for a bay window where he would sometimes sit to read. Another wall had a fireplace, and the fire was constantly burning, keeping the room warmer than most people could stand, but it was a temperature that made him comfortable.

Above the mantle sat the Malfoy Coat of Arms, with two rapiers crossing through the middle.

That was when he realized it.

Apart from the desk, there was really nothing of personal value in his study. No pictures, no keepsakes, nothing that said anything about the owner of the room.

Eating the last of his eggs, he thought over the reasoning behind this.

His father's studies – both his public and personal ones – were impersonal and intimidating. They made visitors feel uncomfortable. He knew his father had done this on purpose, but Draco had already decided he was no longer going to be simply a mirror image of the elder man.

So, swallowing the last of his breakfast, he stood and went to his room to get to work on making his office his own.

Before he reached it, though, there was a tapping on his window.

Looking over, he saw Potter's white owl there and he scowled.

Briefly considering just letting the foul creature flap there forever, he dismissed the notion and walked over to open the window. Not even letting the bird in, he snatched the parchment from her and slammed the window in its face.

Grimly, he read the note, then walked over to the fire and threw it in.

* * *

Harry stumbled into the kitchen some minutes later, a dazed look on his face.

While he had been in the bathroom shaving, he had seen a little piece of plastic in the wastebasket beside the loo. Not thinking through his early morning hangover, he reached in and pulled it out.

He stared at it for several long seconds before realization struck him and he dropped the plastic and his razor.

Several minutes passed as he shakily stood there. Finally, he picked his razor back up and resumed shaving, his quick mind struggling to put together all the evidence that had so abruptly been forced upon him.

He had cut himself on his right cheek when the conclusion reached him.

Now, he stood in the kitchen, watching his best female friend fussing around on the stove, running between the pancakes, sausage and eggs she was preparing for the three of them.

With a deep breath for courage, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the piece of plastic. "Hermione," he called, gaining her attention.

"I thought it would be nice if we all had a –" she froze as she turned and her eyes fell on the plastic in Harry's hand. Her eyes widened, and she looked back and forth from it to Harry, words failing her for the first time in her life.

"Is it his?" he asked much more calmly than he felt.

A long minute ticked by before she nodded.

Before he could respond, she turned back to the stove. "The tea is already set out on the table, but I'd appreciate it if you could set the places for breakfast."

"Hermione…"

"It's only the three of us, so I thought it would be nice to eat together before we headed to Diagon Alley," she rambled on over him.

"Hermione…"

"I mean, it's been so long since the three of us just had a day together –"

"Hermione," he interrupted her sternly, causing her to stop.

She spun around, a furious and desperate look on her face. "Damn it, Harry! I don't want to talk about it! I don't want to think about it! I want to go on with today like nothing's wrong, and the three of us are best friends like we've always been!" Her eyes began filling with tears as she yelled. "I don't want to remember the war that's raging outside, and I don't want to remember a man named Draco Malfoy!"

She shuddered as a sob wracked her body, and she slipped to the floor, her grief overcoming her. "I – I don't want to think about how I've r-ruined everything. I just want one d-day that everything's okay."

Harry stared at her, his own eyes welling up with tears.

"I don't want to think about a baby," she whispered at last, as the door swung open behind him.

The raven-haired boy turned to look at the newcomer, and his face fell at the look of disbelief on Ron's face.

"_What?_"

Hermione's head shot up at the new voice, fear the foremost expression on her face. Harry saw her visibly brace herself as she stood and returned to preparing breakfast. "Harry, if you and Ron could please set the table. It'll be ready in a moment."

Nodding mutely, Harry went to the cupboards and took out the necessary utensils. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the color return tenfold to the redhead as his anger swelled.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" he shouted, startling both of the other teens.

Harry could not help but feel impressed as Hermione responded calmly as she dished the sausages out onto a plate. "I was crying this morning because I took a pregnancy test, Ron. It was positive."

For several long minutes, the only sounds in the room were of Hermione setting food on serving dishes.

Stoically, she walked out of the kitchen and into the dining room, and Harry followed shortly after.

They went about their tasks in a tense silence before Harry spoke up.

"I know I was probably overstepping by bounds, but I owled Malfoy before I came down," he said, calmly.

Hermione dropped the last plate and turned to him with horrified eyes.

"I didn't say anything. I just said I wanted to meet with him today, at the Manor."

She swallowed hard, nodded mutely, and sat down at the place Harry had set for her, piling food onto her plate.

Ron entered a moment later and sat across from her, his eyes boring into her.

Harry took his place as well, grabbing a pancake and a couple sausages after pouring himself some tea.

A sigh fell from the redhead, causing the other two to look at him. Harry cringed at the defeated look on the other boy's face.

"What do you need us to do?" he asked softly, meeting Hermione's eyes across the table.

Another sob escaped Hermione as she stood and ran around the table, throwing herself into Ron's arms.

"Thank you," she whispered through her tears.

* * *

Draco stared at his newly decorated study with a satisfied smile, when a light knock sounded at his door.

A small house elf poked her head in nervously. "Master Malfoy, you has visitors."

The blond sighed as he turned to her. "'Have visitors,' Tippy, not 'has.' Show them in."

Nodding stiffly, the house elf disappeared with a 'pop,' leaving Draco alone for a few precious minutes.

He sat himself behind his desk, and began going over his reports where he had left off earlier in the morning.

Several minutes later, the door opened, and the small house elf announced his visitors. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger here to see you, Master," she said in her annoyingly high voice.

Draco's head shot up at the announcement of the last one. He had expected two of them, but all three together?

Standing stiffly, he gestured them to the two chairs seated before his desk before turning to the servant. "Tippy, please fetch another chair for Mr. Weasley," he ordered, catching Granger's disapproving glance as he did so.

Disappearing and reappearing in a matter of moments with a third chair that matched the others, she levitated it into place next to the others before turning to him. "Will there be anything else, Master Malfoy?" she asked timidly.

"No."

Nodding, she closed the door behind her.

With a calculated sigh, Draco took his seat and leaned back, crossing his legs and steepling his fingers. "Before we start, I want to know if you all realize the foolishness of your visit to my home. You know very well that the Manor is a safe haven for disreputable people, and any one of them would be glad to have your head on a silver platter."

Potter, sitting in the middle, nodded stiffly, his anger apparent on his face. "We covered that. Several important people know exactly where we are, and if anything happens to us, it will be your head," he responded bitterly.

The blond smiled cordially as he nodded in acquiescence. "Then let's get on with it. Nothing said in this room shall go beyond these walls, of that you have my word on my family name," he said, causing the other two boys to shared surprised looks. "No one that would cause you harm has been informed of your presence here, mainly because they would question my loyalty to their cause, but also because it would be too much trouble to do so.

"So, if you please, why are you here?"

There was a few brief moments of silence as the Golden Trio exchanged confused looks. Finally, Potter spoke up.

"Where do you stand?" he asked calmly.

Cocking his head to the side, Draco smiled in amusement. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"He's nothing but an evil bastard. I say we leave," the redhead said quietly to the other boy.

Draco's smile faded as he leveled the Weasel with the full force of his gaze. "Good and evil are nothing more than a question of morals and perception, and as you are a guest in my home, I would appreciate you _not_ insulting me."

To his credit, Weasley met his glare evenly, and Draco only broke his gaze when Granger spoke.

"I figured it out Malfoy, and I need to know if you are with Voldemort or Dumbledore," she said calmly.

Draco stared at her for several moments as he took in her appearance. Her cheeks were puffy and her eyes were bloodshot, showing that she had been crying recently. Her hair was tied back into a loose ponytail, and she was dressed in a cream blouse and long black skirt.

His eyes casually drifter

Potter wore a polo shirt and slacks, while Weasley was wearing what were obviously his best robes. _I wouldn't even blow my nose on those rags_, he thought with a sneer. Both of the boys' eyes were slightly bloodshot as well, but Draco didn't think they had been crying. Hangovers would be his guess, judging by the slightly glazed look they both had.

"What is this really about?" he asked cautiously leaning forward and uncrossing his legs. "I mean, what could possibly have the estranged Golden Trio in my home, asking their archrival where he stands in the war?" Not waiting for them to respond, he stood and stepped around his desk and walked over to one of his bookshelves. "Because, you see, I can't help but be suspicious. Goyle, come in here please."

Three heads whipped to the door to his bedroom as it swung open, revealing the incredibly large boy. He shut the door quietly and went to stand next to Draco's desk.

"I asked Goyle to join us today because I did not trust you, as I am sure you do not trust me," he explained, choosing a book a flipping it open. "If you are here on some mission of Albus Dumbledore to recruit me to your cause, then I am only too happy to inform you that your trip has been nothing but a gigantic waste of time."

He finally turned to face them, snapping the book shut. "Tell me why you are here, or leave."

To his surprise, Granger turned to her friends. "Harry, Ron, could you step outside for a moment?" she asked calmly. The two boys shared a glance before nodding and standing. Potter went through first, and Weasley followed. "Just yell if you need us," he said, shooting Draco a dark look as he closed the door.

Goyle moved to stand in front of it, effectively barring the two from reentering.

"Draco, I know you are not an evil man. Your presence at Moody's funeral proved that," she started, standing and moving toward him. "I also know you are proud of your pureblood heritage, and that you see our involvement as a mistake."

She paused for a moment, and Draco tensed as he saw the hesitation cross her face. Realization dawned on him at that moment.

_Potter didn't want to see me. He wanted me to see _her.

Then, she met his eyes and spoke, and the world fell from under him.

"I'm pregnant, Draco."

* * *

Author's Note

I was really debating with myself on whether or not to return to the original pregnancy story arc, but in the end it won out. It was one of the original basis' for me writing the story, after all. Sorry if this turns you off from the story, but I do hope you enjoy reading my work enough to continue.

And, hey, kudos for me on two chapters in a week!

Please, let me know how you feel about it, and, as always,

Thank you for reading,

Damien J. Frost


	8. Chapter Seven

_Chapter 7_

Hermione watched his eyes grow wide in fear, then narrow in suspicion. A tense silence had fallen over the room after her declaration, and the young witch grew more nervous with every passing second.

Finally, the large boy standing behind her spoke.

"Draco, why is she telling you this?" he asked, his deep voice both cautious and confused.

The blond boy's eyes flickered to his friend before coming back to her. "Gregory, please escort Potter and Weasley to the dining hall, and let Tippy know that we'll be joining you shortly," he said, his voice razor sharp.

The only acknowledgement Hermione heard was the opening and closing of the door behind her.

After another tense moment passed, Malfoy walked by her to a small cabinet on the wall next to his desk.

She turned to watch him pull out a small glass and fill it with ice from a bucket within. Once done, he pulled out a bottle and poured an amber liquid in.

He drained the glass in one large gulp, and Hermione saw the label as he refilled his tumbler – Ogden's Old Firewhiskey.

"You're saying that you're pregnant and, by you telling me this, you're implying the child is mine," he stated, not facing her, his hands gripping the bottle and glass so hard his knuckles had turned white.

"Yes." She whispered, but in the dead silence, she felt as if she had shouted.

Faster than her eyes could follow, he spun around and she heard his glass fly past her ear just before breaking on the wall behind her.

"Fucking bloody _hell_!" he screamed, grabbing the cabinet and tipping it over, causing several bottles contained within to shatter.

"This is the _last_," he picked up an unbroken bottle and threw it against one of the bookcases, "_fucking_," he kicked a chair over, where it hit his desk and gouged a chunk out of it, "_thing_," he picked up another chair and launched it toward the window, but it missed and crashed into the another bookcase, shattering the wood and causing countless books to tumble to the ground, "I need," he finished tiredly as he fell into the last upright chair in front of his desk.

Hermione stood stock-still, afraid to move, as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.

Not sure if his outburst was over, or if she was just sitting in the eye of the storm, she walked to stand in front of him as slowly and calmly as possible. Reaching her destination in front of the desk and paused to take his abnormal behavior.

He was rocking back and forth with his hands over his face, breathing heavily into them, trying to relieve the last of his anger. After a moment he clasped his hands under his chin and looked up at her. "You're not lying are you?" he asked quietly, his voice filled with resignation and anger. "Because, you know, if you _are_ lying, I think I just might kill you."

Hermione, having no reason to believe he was insincere, swallowed nervously. "I'm telling you the truth, Malfoy. I took the test this morning, and I'm going to St. Mungo's after we leave here to confirm it," she said quietly, wanting to reach out and comfort him, but restraining herself, knowing he would not appreciate the gesture.

Malfoy stood so quickly that Hermione fell back against the desk behind her. "You can't do that," he snapped, his hand cutting in front of him in a motional of denial.

After her momentary shock from his action passed, she stood, her fear forgotten in the face of his irrational behavior. "I believe I can, and I will. I need to have a healer –"

"No," he interrupted coldly, stepping forward so there was only a breath of space between them. "I'm telling you that you can't –"

"And who are _you_ to tell me what to do!" she screamed, pushing on his chest to give her a little breathing room. He didn't budge a centimeter.

He was silent for several moments, and Hermione could see the anger building in his mercury eyes. "I am the father of that child, if what you are telling me is true," he bit out between clenched teeth.

She just looked at him, disbelief written on her face. "What do you mean, _if_ what I'm telling you is true?" she snapped back.

His glare burned so much that Hermione felt she would burst into flame any moment. "How do I know that you didn't go crying back to Weasley the next day, taking him to bed for forgiveness, and the only reason you're here is to get money?" he growled in disdain.

The sound of her open palm of connecting with his cheek echoed in the empty room.

* * *

Harry glanced around at the artwork that covered the walls as he and Ron followed the goliath. He noticed with an odd sense of detachment that there were no portraits upon the walls. _Why doesn't a family as narcissistic as the Malfoys would have pictures of themselves everywhere? _

He was shaken out of his musings as the redhead nudged him lightly with his elbow. "Hey, mate," he whispered. "Do you think it was smart to leave her in there with him?" he asked, worry lacing his words.

The raven-haired boy shook his head. "No, but its what she told us to do, and Hermione always knows what she's doing."

Ron nodded, still looking unconvinced, and the two boys lapsed back into silence, both thinking the same thing. They were here because for once, she _hadn't_ known what she was doing.

Reaching the dining hall, they stopped and stared around in amazement. The room was as large as the Great Hall, and the solitary table in the center was easily the length of one of the House tables.

"Wow," Harry mumbled.

A tiny, high-pitched voice interrupted his inspection of the room. The boys looked down and saw the same gray-green house elf that had greeted them at the door earlier. "Sirs, if you please be sitting, Tippy is serving lunch shortly," she said, bowing so low her nose touched the ground as she gestured to a pair of chairs that had been pulled out in the middle of the table.

Nodding, Harry mutely took the seat proffered, directly across from Goyle, who had already sat down.

Tippy disappeared through a set of double doors on the opposite side of the hall, and the three boys sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes.

Finally, Ron broke it with a nervous question. "So… um… Where… Where's Crabbe?"

The behemoth, who had been reaching for his water, tensed and leveled a glare upon the redhead that would have made Voldemort cower.

"He's dead."

The simple statement, spoken with such hate, caused Harry to flinch. "Oh, I… I'm so–"

Rising from his seat, his gaze shifted to Harry. "Don't you dare say you're sorry," he said in a tone of voice that sent shivers down the Boy-Who-Lived's spine. "Because you're not.

"You sit there," he snapped, pointing at him forcefully. "You keep your mouth closed, and when Granger and Draco have finished, you leave."

He returned to his seat stiffly, obviously trying to keep his anger in check, and Harry and Ron traded slightly nervous looks.

Having faced down Voldemort several times, Harry didn't think he could be this frightened by a seventeen year-old boy, but in the face of that anger, and his knowledge of the other boy's fighting prowess, he found himself genuinely concerned for his safety.

But, swallowing his fear, Harry looked up at Goyle again. "Still, I'm sorry."

He was being held a foot in the air before he had even registered that Goyle was over the table.

"Why? Why the hell are you sorry?" he screamed, his face a mere inch from the raven-haired boy's. "Do you feel pity for me? For Draco? For _Crabbe_? Well? Why are you sorry?"

"Master Goyle, you know Master Malfoy doesn't like Master Goyle losing his temper."

Harry looked over the other boy's shoulder and saw the little elf standing there calmly, food having already been set out.

With something between a sigh and a strangled scream, the large teen dropped him into his chair and turned to make the long trek around the table back to his chair.

"Enjoy!" Tippy said cheerfully after Goyle had taken his seat.

* * *

"How _dare_ you," she sneered, glaring at the blond.

Malfoy, who had been facing the door from the sudden impact of her hand, turned back to her, his eyes glowing with a fire that made her instantly regret her actions.

"I _dare_, because when someone is in a position of power and money, as I am, it is a natural question," he snarled, his hands balled into fists.

"You really are nothing more than a self-serving, insufferable git," she spat, covering her fear with bravado.

His expression changed suddenly, and he smiled sinisterly as he stepped away and spread his hands. "Born and bred."

Hermione shivered from the tone of that statement. She watched nervously as he walked around his desk and sat, picking up a quill and what looked like a financial report of some kind.

Her eyes widened as she stared at him, shocked the sudden realization that he had just dismissed her. "We are not finished!" she screamed, ripping the quill out of his hand.

Calmly, he opened a drawer in his desk and retrieved another, dipped it into an inkpot, and proceeded to make several marks on the parchment in front of him, effectively ignoring her.

Her anger mounted until she set her hands on his desk and pushed everything off of it. "Why are you acting like I'm not here?" she screamed again. She knew she was being irrational, but this was not going at all the way she had pictured on her way over.

Rude, mean, spiteful, angry Malfoy she could deal with.

Indifferent Malfoy, she could not.

With the irritating calm he was now radiating, he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, looking the way he had when the discussion had began. "If you can't sit quietly and listen to reason, Granger, then I have no reason to continue this discussion."

Once more, she stared at his in disbelief. "Listen to reason?" she asked, incredulous to his assuming attitude. "It's reasonable for a pregnant woman to _not _see a healer?"

"That is _not_ what I said!" he yelled, standing and slamming his hands on the desk in front of him, startling Hermione so much that she fell into the chair behind her. "If you could _shut up_ for two _bloody_ minutes, you'll understand what I was saying before you interrupted me!"

Frightened by the anger rolling off the blond, she nodded mutely.

Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he continued in a much calmer voice. "You can't go to St. Mungo's. Death Eaters have been planted there, and if you go in for a pregnancy check-up, you might as well get out the red and white paint and draw the target yourself."

Wishing, not for the first time, that she had as much control over her expressions as he did, her eyes widened once more. "I never –"

"I'm not finished!" he snapped, frightening her back into silence.

When he seemed satisfied she wouldn't interrupt, he began again. "Another reason you can't see a healer is because they have spells that can discover the paternity of a child," he explained, gesturing with his hands as if he were giving a lecture. "It is required by Ministry law that both the mother and father are recorded on a child's certificate of birth, even if the mother does not know, or wish to know, the identity of the father."

He stopped and gave her a pointed look. "The target gets a little bigger, then, because you're carrying the Malfoy heir, and, in addition, one gets painted on my back as well."

Hermione suddenly felt weighed down by everything Malfoy said. While she had thought about what was going to happen, she hadn't thought of the implications this would have on a grander scale. She bowed her head and began crying as he continued.

"Now, you have the Death Eaters and the ministry on your back, as do I. But, not only that, there's my father, who will do everything in his power to kill you to keep his bloodline pure," he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

"And I will have to stand before the Dark Lord, and face his wrath."

Her head shot up at these words, and fear overrode her grief. "What?" she asked weakly.

Sighing, he fell into his chair again. "You said you had figured out my allegiance, correct?" he asked, defeated. At her nod, he inclined his head as well. "If word got out that I had gotten you, a dear friend of Harry "The World Bows at My Feet" Potter, pregnant, do you think I would survive explaining that to the Dark Lord?" he asked wearily.

She shook her head numbly. "What do we do then?" she asked desperately. She was feeling more and more as if she were possessed by a weak and indecisive crybaby, instead of the strong and brilliant girl she normally was.

Leaning forward, he crossed his arms on his desk and looked at her sternly. "You go to one of those muggle healers. What are they called?" he paused, unsure.

"Doctors," she supplied, a little amused despite herself.

He nodded in confirmation. "Yes, doctors. Anyway, go to a doctor, have them check you out. Then…"

* * *

When Draco entered the dining hall some time later, he was surprised to see that the food had remained relatively untouched, especially with the legendary appetites of Goyle and Weasley. The three boys were all sitting in a tense silence, and he saw the male portion of the Golden Trio jump slightly when he opened the door.

"Potter, Weasley," he began, nodding shortly to each of the boys in turn as they stood. "Granger is waiting for you in foyer. There is a fireplace there you can floo from. Tippy will escort you."

In an instant, the little elf was at his side. "This way please, this way," her high voice rang as she turned and walked out the door he had just entered.

The two Gryffindors walked past him, both leveling angry glares as they did. Draco sneered in response.

Once they were gone, he looked over to his friend, who had stood and was making his way around the table toward him.

"What was that about, Draco?" he asked when he reached the blond.

Shaking his head with a sigh, the Slytherin Prince turned amused eyes upon his friend. "We have a very large problem, mate."

For his part, the younger boy only looked on, confused, as Draco began to laugh. "What…?"

As he began to voice his questions, the blond stopped laughing and walked away, calling over his shoulder as he did. "Grab your cloak, we're going out."

"Where to?" the larger boy asked, hurrying after his friend.

Draco paused only long enough to look back and flash a charming smile. "I thought Paris would be a great place to celebrate my impending fatherhood," he said with a sardonic chuckle.

Goyle stopped cold.

"What?"

* * *

Author's Note

This would have been posted two days ago, but ffnet wouldn't let me upload for some reason.

Bastards.

Anyway, I know that was a short one, but it said what needed to be said. I think I might be spoiling you all, getting these chapters out so quickly, but hey, what can you do, eh?

Then again, I might be the one being spoiled with all your wonderful reviews. I'm honestly amazed at how motivated I become when I look at my account and see ten new reviews (hint, hint).

I kept that tantrum scene generally in tact, seeing as how so many of you said you were looking forward to it, and I do so hope you enjoyed it.

Next will be the return to Hogwarts, and it is generally done, except for a little proofreading. Expect it in the next couple of days.

As always,

Thank you for reading,

Damien J. Frost.


	9. Chapter Eight

_Chapter 8 _

Hermione sighed as she triple-checked her trunk, making sure she wasn't forgetting anything. Their school shopping had been put off for a couple days after their visit to Malfoy Manor, but they had managed to get everything they had needed – from either the few shops still open in Diagon Alley or through owl-post. After that, she had gone to a muggle OB/GYN for a check-up, and had breathed a sigh of relief when the doctor had announced she and the baby were both in excellent health.

She paused in her packing as she looked once more at the picture of the ultrasound lying on the floor next to her. The baby was still only about two inches long -too small to define a gender -butithad beenthe first timeHermione hadsmiled while thinking about the mess she had gotten herself in.

She had actually been excited when she had first seen to little form growing inside her.

Shaking herself out of her daydream, she set the picture on top of her clothes and closed the lid, satisfied that nothing was missing.

With a content sigh, she sat on her bed, grabbing a small piece of metal from her nightstand as she did. A satisfied smile crept on her face as she fingered the badge that said _HEAD GIRL_. She had worked six long years for the opportunity to wear this badge, and now, it was hers.

_At least something's going right for me_, she mused.

There was a soft knock on her door a few minutes later, followed by Ron and Harry walking in.

"You ready?" the redhead asked, a goofy grin on his face.

Over the past week, the three friends had managed to patch things together. There had been a lot of yelling, crying, and things being thrown at each other's heads, but they had all gotten to the point were they could joke and laugh together as they had before her mistake. Things weren't perfect, but then again, Hermione didn't think they ever would be.

"Almost," she smiled in return. Pocketing her badge, she slid to the floor and looked under her bed. There, she saw two bright yellow eyes staring back at her. "You ready to go back to Hogwarts, Crookshanks?" she asked, reaching out for him.

The cat came without a fight, and the young witch smiled as she stood with him purring in her arms. "Now I'm ready," she said with a definitive nod.

Ron stared at the half-kneazle she held with the same distaste he had always held for it. "Of _course_, you can't forget that bloody menace," he muttered sarcastically, turning away and making his way down the hall, a laughing Harry following.

_Things are getting better_, she thought happily as she pulled out her wand and levitated her trunk out of the room.

They would be traveling to the Burrow, and from there, Mr. Weasley would be driving the three of them and Ginny to King's Cross, where they would board the Hogwarts Express.

Hermione's smile faded quickly when she thought about that.

She had forgotten about Ginny.

* * *

Ginny couldn't help but think that something wasn't quite right as she watched her brother and his friends pull their trunks out of the car. The entire ride to King's Cross had been full of the usual inside jokes and aimless chatter the three usually indulged in during the yearly trip. 

No angry comments or bitter glares had been exchanged, and the three had acted like all was right with the world.

There had been a brief moment of tense silence, however, when her mother had started talking about how much she was looking forward to being a grandmother, and what a shame it was that Bill probably wouldn't be there for the birth of his first child.

She couldn't figure out why the three had suddenly gone quiet when the topic was brought up, but she hadn't missed the almost sad look that passed between the three.

A shadow suddenly loomed over her, and she spun around, only to fall down with a shriek as she saw who was behind her.

Gregory Goyle and Blaise Zabini stood there, staring down at her, amused.

Zabini stepped around her, while Goyle held out his hand, offering to help her up. She took it cautiously, and was amazed at the sudden weightless feeling she had as she was lifted off the ground and set on her feet.

"You alright?" he asked quietly as she brushed off her rear. She nodded mutely, her cheeks tinged red in embarrassment, and turned to see Hermione, Harry and her brother having a quiet conversation with the other Slytherin.

She knew that whatever the other boy was saying, it couldn't be a good, because Ron and Harry were getting angrier by the second, and Hermione looked severely offended.

All conversation stopped, however, when her father walked up to them, a stern look on his face. "I think it's about time you left, young man."

Only able to see his back, Ginny could only imagine the look on the mysterious Slytherin's face as he replied. "I do apologize for my rudeness, Arthur, but this conversation is absolutely none of your concern."

She watched as her father grew red in the face, both from the humiliation and anger of being spoken to in such a way by a boy a third of his age. Before he could find his voice, though, the dark-skinned boy turned toward her and the behemoth next to her. "Gregory, if you would be so considerate as to retrieve Hermione's trunk, we can be on our way," he said, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

Goyle grunted in acknowledgement and walked to where four trunks were sitting. He stood for a moment, looking them over, before turning to Hermione. Ginny almost cringed at the anger present in the other girl's eyes before she huffed in resignation and pointed to hers. Goyle stooped down to the one on the far right and lifted the large trunk easily, holding it with one hand on his shoulder. Turning to make his way back the way they came, his eyes caught Ginny's confused look and he paused, a smile creeping onto his normally stoic face. "Which one's yours?" he asked.

All eyes turned to her, causing her blush to return full force. "The… the one on the other end," she said, knowing it was too quiet for anyone to hear.

She was amazed, therefore, when he walked to her trunk, hefted it upon his other shoulder and walked toward her, stopping in front of her. His smile grew a little larger as she looked up at him, her cheeks burning even hotter.

"Thanks," she mumbled as Zabini walked up to them.

"Come along then, Gregory, or our garrulous Prince will throw a tantrum at our tardiness."

Goyle grunted in acknowledgement and stepped around her, the smile falling from his lips as he did.

She stared after the Slytherins in confusion before the Trio walked by her as well, Hermione stopping long enough to ask if she was coming.

Snapping out of her stupor, she nodded and followed, watching with a little awe as the large boy carried the two heavy trunks with no apparent strain.

_Curiouser and curiouser_, she thought, throwing a look to the disgruntled girl walking beside her, empty-handed save for the half-kneazle that lay asleep in her arms.

* * *

"… and then we went to Paris. And even though I've been there a million times it's still my favorite city of all time. You know, the city of love, with the Eiffel Tower, the –" 

"You know Muggles built the Eiffel Tower, right?" Draco interrupted, hoping it would deter the raven-haired girl next to him from continuing.

Pansy paused for a moment and looked at him, confused. "Oh… Well, it's pretty, that's all that counts. _Anyway_, then we…"

Draco closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose as Pansy's incessant account of her summer continued. He found himself wishing for the first time in his life that Granger were there. _At least it would be an intelligent conversation_, he thought. _Scratch that – intelligent_ argument_ would be more apt_.

"Pansy," he interjected again. "Granger will be here in a few minutes and I really don't feel like listening to you two argue. So, if you would be so kind as to find another compartment to occupy, I would appreciate it."

She looked at him, the hurt clearly displayed in her eyes, but she knew she could have been dismissed in a much less polite way, so she relented without a fight. "All right, Draco, but she gives you any trouble, let me know," she said with a vicious glint in her eyes.

Draco frowned at her words. "Are you insinuating that I'm incapable of taking care of my own problems?" he asked dangerously.

The Slytherin Princess immediately looked panicked, knowing she had been caught in a dangerous situation, but was saved from answering as the door to the compartment slid open. Goyle stood there with two trunks slung over his shoulders, looking between the two sitting in the spacious Heads cabin.

"Bad time?" he asked, setting one trunk on the ground and heaving the other onto a shelf above Pansy's head.

Draco waved his hand dismissively. "Not at all, Goyle. Is she here?"

He didn't have a chance to answer, however, because at that moment a very distressed-looking Gryffindor witch practically ran into the cabin.

The blond arched an eyebrow in amusement. "Is there a problem, Granger?"

"Loo."

Draco smirked and pointed to a door to his left. The genius threw her cat at him and ran into the loo without so much as a glance at the room's other occupants. The sound of her being sick, unfortunately for all in the cabin, was quite clear through the open door. Goyle tactfully walked over to the door and shut it, giving the chestnut-haired witch some privacy.

Pansy looked at the two smirking boys, one of whom was trying to calm a very distraught cat, disgusted and bewildered. "All right, what's –"

"Umm…"

The three Slytherins turned to look at the disruption. Granger's cat meowed at the littlest Weasel.

The massive teenager in question picked the other trunk off the ground. "Be right there," he said to her before turning to Draco. "Blaise took off to spend some time with his… friend, if you're looking for him."

Draco nodded and directed his gaze upon the dark-haired girl across from him. "Pansy, I'd appreciate it if you left as well," Draco held up a hand to stop her protest. "Unless, of course, you would like to finish our discussion."

The fear returned to her eyes as she realized he hadn't forgotten about her inadvertent slight. She lowered her eyes to the cat sitting on his lap and her lip curled in a vicious sneer before walking out of the compartment. She stopped briefly to glare at the Weaselette. "The whole world's gone nutters," she muttered after a tense moment, stomping off down the hall.

Draco watched with narrowed eyes as the redhead gave Goyle an exasperated look. The behemoth just chuckled, causing her cheeks to gain a reddish tinge, and then waved at her to lead the way.

_I'll have to keep my eyes on them_, he thought with a hint of aggravation. He couldn't have Goyle getting involved with a girl, especially the Weaselette, when there was so much at stake.

After a moment, he relaxed and started running his hand through the fur of the creature in his lap. "Well, that was entertaining," the blond smirked. The damnably likable cat just curled up against him and purred in agreement.

* * *

Harry sat down with a sigh after hefting his trunk onto the shelf above the seat. They had parted ways with Ginny, Hermione and the two Slytherins shortly after they had boarded the train, with promises from all the Gryffindors to meet up shortly. 

He didn't understand Malfoy's insistence in sending Goyle and Zabini to escort Hermione to the Head's cabin. It was as if he was trying to advertise the fact that he and Hermione had been involved. Closing his eyes, he thought about all the confused and suspicious stares the group had gotten once they had reached Platform 9 ¾. None of them could seem to make sense of the Golden Trio suddenly being in the company of Goyle and Zabini, children of known and suspected Death Eaters, respectively.

After several minutes of Harry and Ron sitting in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, the compartment door slid open with a bang, startling both.

Standing there was Luna Lovegood, a strange witch with limp, dirty blonde hair and a penchant for believing the unbelievable. She smiled dreamily as she strolled into the cabin, her trunk behind her, a dreamy smile on her face. "Hello Harry. Hello Ronald," she greeted them, pulling her trunk between the seats before sitting down across from the redhead. Without another word, she pulled out a copy of the Quibbler, propped her feet upon her trunk, and was once more lost her in her own little world.

The two boys looked at each other, confused at first, then, gradually, they began laughing.

This is how Ginny found them when she entered a few moments later, Goyle trailing behind her.

"Did I miss something?" she asked tentatively as she stepped in and took the seat beside Luna.

Ron looked at his sister, still laughing, and shook his head. "It's nothing, Gin."

From the door, Goyle cleared his throat, causing Ginny to jump. "Oh, um… Up here, I guess," she said awkwardly, waving to the cargo rack above her. The large boy nodded and hefted the trunk to the shelf, the ease of the action apparent in his movements. After he was done, he walked out without another glance.

The youngest Weasley stood and looked out the door in the direction he had left. "See you later!" Ginny called, obviously upset by his abrupt departure.

Harry dimly heard the goliath grunt in response. He was too busy getting an eyeful of Ginny's backside.

As she sat back down, and Harry shook himself from his admiration, he noticed that Luna was looking at the other girl with a knowing smile. "He's half-troll, you know," she said matter-of-factly.

"He is not!" the redheaded girl laughed. The smile remained on her face as her eyes darted to the door and back. "I'd say a quarter."

Harry laughed in response, and turned to Ron to continue the joke with him, but stopped when he saw the other boy glowering darkly at his sister. "Hey, what's wrong, mate?"

The elder Weasley shook his head and shifted his gaze to the window.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes as he leaned his head back. He could understand how Ron felt. First, Hermione had… been _intimate _with Malfoy, and now Ginny seemed to be showing interest in the blond snake's bodyguard.

Things were just changing too quickly for either of them to keep up. He almost wished Voldemort would attack the train to get his mind off everything.

_At least then I would know what to do_, he thought bitterly as he heard the whistle blow and the train begin to pull out.

* * *

"Ugh." 

"Feeling better, Granger?" Draco smirked at the brown-haired witch that plopped down on the seat across from him.

"Do you always have to be a git?" she snapped.

Draco's eyes widened marginally. "Why, yes. Yes, I do," he smiled indulgently.

"Oh, just be quiet," she moaned, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples in agitation. After a moment, she opened one eye and glared at the cat coiled up in his lap. "Come here, Crookshanks," she cooed, opening her other eye and holding her hands out in invitation.

Crookshanks lifted his head and looked at Granger lazily. After a stretch and a yawn, he curled back into Draco's lap with a purr.

She crossed her arms with a huff and looked at her half-kneazle irritably. "Traitor," she pouted.

There were a few moments of silence, in which Draco felt the train lurch forward, signaling the start of the long trek to Hogwarts.

"I thought I told you to resign your post as Head Girl," he said finally, causing her to look up in shock.

"And you actually expected me to do so?" she asked, outraged at his presumptuousness.

Narrowing his eyes, he sneered at her in response.

Silence once more settled over the two, only to be broken a few moments later by the door sliding open, revealing a nervous fifth year.

"Hi," she smiled shyly.

Draco snorted in amusement. "Are you going to stand there all day?" he sneered.

"Be nice, Malfoy. Hello, I'm Hermione Granger and this is Draco Malfoy," she smiled warmly at the new arrival. "Come in and take a seat, and we'll get started when everyone arrives," she said as she stood up and took the seat next to Draco.

As they waited for the rest of the prefects to arrive, Draco and Granger went through the lists that had been sent with their letters and made priorities for the meeting.

After about fifteen minutes, Draco looked up and made a quick count of those present. "We're still one short," he told Granger, who was writing down some notes on Merlin-knows-what.

She pulled out the list for roll and looked up at the prefects. "Anyone know who's missing?" she asked.

Draco took a quick survey of the shaking heads. They all looked a little too nervous. _They're probably intimidated by me, _he thought smugly, not letting his annoyed face slip.

Just as his counterpart was about to open her mouth to begin calling names, the door opened with a slam, causing all the prefects to jump. Draco faced the last addition and nearly growled in disdain.

"Sorry I'm late. I got caught up talking with Ginny and Harry, and then Colin needed help finding –"

"Shut up and sit down, Creevey. We're late enough as it is without your inane babble."

"Malfoy! Be nice!" Granger snapped.

Dennis Creevey quietly took the last seat available, smiling gratefully at Hermione as he did.

Draco lip curled at the younger boy as Granger began calling names.

"All right, just raise your hand when I call your name. Gryffindors Dennis Creevey and Bryn Kennedy?" Both fifth year prefects had brown hair, but their heights were vastly different. Creevey was only about five feet tall while the girl was nearing six. Draco didn't really know much about either of them, except that this Creevey was Colin's little brother. And Colin Creevey... well, he was welcome in Slytherin, by default, if nothing else.

"Gryffindors Thomas McPherson and Jenna Alexander?" These two were obviously acquaintances of the Weaselette, if not friends. Well, for that matter Draco didn't know if the red-head actually had any friends beside Granger and – he shuddered to think – Loony.

It had long ago been deemed redundant to have seventh-year prefects from the same house the Head Boy and Girl came from, so Granger moved directly to the next house.

"Hufflepuffs James Weston and Alyson Norrington?" The Weston boy had blonde hair and clouded gray eyes. Draco knew him slightly through his twin brother, who was in Slytherin, but didn't know much beside the fact he was in Hufflepuff.

The Norrington girl must have deemed Loony's sense of style a good idea and had dyed her hair purple. Draco saw bright happy faces staring out from under her eyelids, automatically bringing a sneer of disgust to his lips.

"Hufflepuffs Kyle Jones and Rhiannon –"

"Ryan."

Granger looked up in surprise at the interruption from the Spanish girl. Draco merely shifted his sneer from one girl to the next.

"I wasn't aware I cared what you would like to be called," Draco began to rant before receiving a sharp elbow in the gut.

Turning, he glared viciously at Granger, absolutely furious at being interrupted in front of all the prefects. Realizing she had just made a very large mistake, she hid her face behind the parchment containing the names.

"Because the name on this piece of parchment is the name you will go by," he finished, still glowering at Granger.

The chestnut-haired witch coughed and sat up, trying to regain some of her composure. The other Slytherins in the cabin began to chuckle, but were quickly cut off when Draco's glare turned on them.

"Hufflepuffs Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott?" Granger called out after it was clear they had regained control in the room.

Macmillan might have put on a no-nonsense face, but he was nothing more than a sniveling little ferret that could be easily manipulated by the youngest of Slytherins. He was very bright and, coincidentally, very good at doing other people's homework.

Draco knew little of the girl, however. Not that he really cared.

"Ravenclaws Caleb Spirington and Kaylee Smythe?" Draco had met Caleb before. Actually, he had tutored Draco through Astronomy last year. Very intelligent and very discreet, he had been the ideal tutor for a Slytherin Prince. About five and a half feet tall, with shoulder length strawberry blonde hair, half-moon glasses and sharp, clean dress, he was just remarkable enough to be noticed, and just plain enough to be forgotten soon after.

The Smythe girl, on the other hand, could very well have been related to Loony with the way she was dressed. Bright tye-dyed shirt and pink and blue flannel pants with green and yellow bunnies on it, and wild black hair gave her a 'just out of bed' look. Her drooping eyelids and wide yawn gave credence to that idea.

"Ravenclaws Micah Pitranski and Willamina Smit?"

Both looked like they should have been the other. Pitranski had long hair pulled into a ponytail and was fairly short, around Creevey's height. Very much a pretty boy, Draco had seen him on a few occasions, and only by a comment from Pansy on his abilities in bed knew his correct gender.

Smit was, well… not Draco's type, to say the least. Slightly shorter than Goyle, she had short blonde hair – short being an understatement. It was cut to the point of being very masculine and was spiked in all directions. Draco quickly continued his scrutiny on the next individual.

"Ravenclaws Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil?"

Goldstein was altogether unassuming and unremarkable. Definitely one of those kids that received a prefect badge solely on grades and the fact he never broke any rules. Draco couldn't help but think how boring his life must be.

And Patil… well, Draco wasn't a fan of either of the twins.

"Slytherins Alex Weston and Heather Knowles?" The second of the Weston twins, Alex had dull black hair and bright blue eyes that pierced you with their intensity. His very presence made most people squirm. He was Draco's protégé, the next in line for the head of Slytherin, and someone who demanded respect with his very presence, even at fifteen.

Knowles could have very well been a female version of Draco. With crimson hair and a very pale complexion, made more evident by the all-black wardrobe she insisted on wearing, she was a dangerous kind of beauty. The one you had to be brave to ask to join you for an evening, because if you weren't, you might not survive it. She had a vicious demeanor, a sharp wit and a quick mind. She was Pansy's successor.

Both Slytherin prefects looked to Draco for confirmation on whether or not to respond. At his slight nod, they both raised their hands.

Draco caught Granger rolling her eyes and shaking her head from out of the corner of his eye and smirked. _I'll have to explain to her about the Slytherin hierarchy_.

"Slytherins Ike Chauncy and Jennifer Palmer?"

Chauncy, like the other Slytherins waited for Draco's nod before responding. A sinister-looking boy with dirty black hair that hung in front of his eyes and an altogether imposing build, he was extremely dangerous individual with little to no brains. He reminded Draco of Crabbe, but the thought caused him to quickly move on to the next object of scrutiny.

Palmer was an oddity, and was despised in Slytherin because of it. She was a mudblood, the first to be sorted into the House in nearly 70 years. And if it weren't for the change in times, Draco felt she would have ended up much the same way the last did – dead. But Palmer took absolutely nothing from anyone, not even Snape. She was powerful and intelligent, and quick to her wand. She learned quickly that she would need to be, or she would be walked on every step of the way. She reminded Draco of Granger in many ways, except she had the temper of a Weasel.

Most Slytherins tended to leave her alone nowadays, too many having been the brunt of that temper. Only the very brave – or, in Draco's case – the very influential, dared rile her.

With everyone present, the meeting progressed with Granger running through all the minute details of their jobs – patrolling hallways, dishing out punishments to those deserving, setting a high standard for younger students to follow, so on, so forth.

Draco found himself nodding off several times, but was awakened every time by a sharp elbow in the gut from Granger.

"… and now that the war is a very real menace to Hogwarts, we need to make sure the students feel safe. Please inform Malfoy, myself or any of the professors of any and all Death Eaters or Death Eater sympathizers you know of."

The blond sat up and regarded each of the prefects in turn, studying them all for sign of hesitation or fear. Several of the girls blushed hotly under his gaze. Draco contained the smirk he felt coming on; he knew this was a critical moment. Both he and Granger agreed that he should say something at this point, to alleviate any suspicions they would have on him.

"While Voldemort," everyone else in the cabin shuddered, even the Slytherins, "is attempting to rise to power, the security of the school is paramount. Hogwarts has been entrusted with these students for safekeeping – even though it is one of the largest targets. We, as authority figures, need to protect those given into our care. _No one_ is to be a hero, but you are all expected to perform your duties. In doing so, you will help protect all the children within the walls of Hogwarts. If you ever have any questions about your duties, or about what you should take into your hands and what you should let fall to myself and Granger, never hesitate to ask.

"We are here to help you determine the lines you are to work within and abide by at all costs. We have to be careful of how we tread around the other students. We _cannot_ show fear, no matter how terrified we may be. We must stand strong and together. House rivalries must be put aside and we _must_ work together."

_Too simply led, too easily fooled,_ Draco thought bitterly as he watched the faces turn from fearful to proud that they had been selected for this task.

Granger took a deep breath before broaching the subject that would cause the most debate, and one that Draco was wholly in disagreement with. "And also, on the topic of House rivalries, there will be no Quidditch this year." She paused as she waited for the complaints to subside before continuing. "There will be no Quidditch because it has been deemed too dangerous to have all the students in such a confined area out in the open. If Death Eaters were to attack, the panic alone would cause several injuries to students, not to mention if they had us surrounded, those who tried to flee would be..." At the somber and shocked looks on the faces of the prefects, Granger stopped for a moment and set her hand over her eyes, unable to voice one of her worst fears. Draco saw tears glistening in her eyes behind the hand.

"You have to realize," Draco continued for her. "We know how much you don't want to face this reality. But the fact remains, the war will be there whether or not you wish to acknowledge it. People will die. People close to you. Maybe _even_ you. This war is already knocking on our doorstep. It's not a matter of if it will happen; it's a matter of when.

"To help prepare you, all of you will be participating in weekly classes with the DA club. To find out more about the meeting times, you'll need to speak with Neville Longbottom from Gryffindor, as he is currently in charge of the group. This is mandatory for you," he finished with a stern, sweeping gaze.

"You are dismissed," Granger said after it was clear Draco was done. "Remember to patrol the hallways every now and then, and, if you can, just stop by and speak with Neville for a moment. He should be somewhere near the middle of the train." She stood to shake their hands as they departed. Draco simply nodded at each of them in turn. Crookshanks just glared.

* * *

After the last of the students departed from the cabin, Hermione collapsed into the seat across from Malfoy. "I hope I never have to do that again," she muttered, laying down on the seat and draping an arm across her forehead. 

"Oh, please, Granger. You're being dramatic," Malfoy smirked.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but couldn't stop the grin that forced its way onto her face.

After a few moments, her smile faded and she sat up, looking at him earnestly. "Did you mean what you told them?" she asked quietly, looking into his eyes.

Sighing, he leaned his head against the back of the seat. "I was just telling them what they needed to hear, Granger. Whether I meant what I said or not isn't the issue. That they believed I meant it is."

Hermione studied him for a few more moments before she responded. "You're right. But I need to know if _you_ believe what you said."

"Why?"

"Peace of mind."

Malfoy sat forward and began petting Crookshanks, who had not left his lap, as he thought of an answer. "No, I don't think I do believe it. I've seen the worst that humanity has to offer. I've seen people tortured and killed, all in the name of a higher purpose. Merlin, Granger, _I've_ killed in the name of that higher purpose."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat at the admission. It was the first time he had spoken of his activities as a Death Eater.

His expression grew forlorn as he turned his gaze to the window. "I think I regret that… but I don't really know anymore."

A depressing sort of silence settled over them.

"Granger, let me pose you a philosophical question," he said after a moment, still staring out the window. "If you came upon a child drowning in a lake, would you jump in and attempt to save it?"

She nodded without hesitation. "Of course, only the most heartless people would let someone die without trying to help them."

His face remained impassive as he turned to her, and she grew a little nervous.

"What if you knew that child would grow up to be the Dark Lord?" he continued, his voice as cold and biting as ice. "You knew that if you let that child drown, thousands would continue living?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but she realized what he was really asking, and no words came out. Would she save a single life and doom others to their deaths, or let that life perish, so that others could live?

What was the value of a life to her?

* * *

Author's Note 

Well, here's another one for you greedy little devils. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 9 might take a little longer in getting done, because I'm having a little trouble writing it. But, I'll push through it, and it should be done sometime this week.

Also, if you could pop in and check out my non-_Repercussions_ one-shots, I'd appreciate it. _Just Waiting_ has been edited, removing some major grammatical mistakes that were bugging me, and _Glimpses of the End_ has also undergone the smae treatment, as well as being fleshed out a little more.

As always, thank you for reading,

Damien J. Frost


	10. Chapter Nine

_Chapter 9_

Harry was walking down the train, looking for Hermione. She not returned to the compartment yet, and he was starting get worried about her.

"Harry!"

The boy in question back-tracked, and smiled when he saw the face of Neville Longbottom. He was sharing a compartment with two Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff, but Harry couldn't remember their names, if he had even known them to begin with.

"How goes it, Neville?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe with a smile.

The rotund boy had grown up a lot over the past couple of years, especially after the incursion to the Department of Mysteries. He had petitioned Dumbledore to allow him to continue the DA, thinking it would be a good idea to teach students advanced defensive magic, and all comers were welcome. Most students who joined were sixth and seventh years.

As he stood there sharing idle chatter with Neville, he noticed one of the girls in the cabin shooting him discreet glances, and he smiled at her, causing a blush to break out on her cheeks. Before he could say anything, however, he was bowled over by another body.

"Why don't you watch where you're going you scarred freak!"

_Oh great, Parkinson_, he thought bitterly. _She's the _last _person I wanted to see._

"I was just standing there, so I'm pretty sure that it's not my fault," he muttered as he grabbed her arms to push her off.

His blood froze as he accidentally pushed up the sleeve on her left arm, exposing the mark tattooed on her skin.

She sucked in a harsh breath, causing his eyes to connect with hers, and his heart ached at the fear he saw there. She stood and backed away down the hall, opposite the direction Harry had come from. "Please…" she whispered, her voice sounding pained to his ears. Her eyes darted to the open compartment he was standing next to, and he knew Neville and the other occupants were watching them in curiosity.

He also knew what she was asking, but he couldn't keep something like this to himself.

"I'm sorry…" he replied, his voice weak, his face regretful.

She broke into tears at his response, and she shook her head in denial. "I HATE YOU!" she screamed before running down the hall.

"Parkinson, wait," Harry called after her, suddenly feeling guilty. But it was too late. She was already out of the car and running to the area of the train the Slytherins normally occupied.

"Wow, that was really heartfelt, Potter."

Harry turned to the source of the voice and groaned. _What is this, send every possible Slytherin to torment me day?_

"Hello, Zabini," he grumbled, resigning to the fact that this was going to be a _very_ long day.

"Hello, Mr. Wonderful," the black-haired Slytherin retorted, causing the black-haired Gryffindor to blink in confusion. "I see you have an impressive way with the fairer sex," he smiled sinisterly. Harry involuntarily gulped, suddenly feeling like the canary being sized up by the cat. "Just take a glance at your recent providence with them," he continued. "You made a pretty little snake cry, the littlest Weasel won't even look your way anymore, and your pet beaver is expecting," he said with a wink.

The boy-who-lived immediately felt like killing the sneering boy in front of him. He felt the blood rise to his face as Zabini walked past him and paused, leaning close to Harry's ear.

"I know _everything_," he whispered.

* * *

"I don't know…" she replied after several minutes had passed. 

Draco nodded and stood, stretching as he did. "I think you need more time to think on your answer," he said, a sad smile on his lips. "I need to go make sure Goyle and Pansy aren't getting into any trouble, as it is, so I'll leave you to it."

She merely nodded in answer, turning to face out the window, and he almost felt bad at moral dilemma he had posed to her. _If she's going to survive_, he thought sadly as he stepped into the hall, _she needs to find an answer._

He walked the hallways at a languorous pace, stopping to speak with a few Slytherins here and there. After three cars, he came upon Goyle sitting by himself, staring out the window. Silently, he slipped into the compartment and sat next to his friend.

"I miss him, you know," the other boy's deep voice rumbled after a moment.

Draco nodded. "I miss him too, Greg."

The quiet remembrance was broken when a very distraught Pansy ran into the cabin a moment later, crying and shaking. She threw herself on the blond, clinging to him for dear life.

"Pansy, what's wrong?" he asked in concern. The Princess of Slytherin was known for being hotheaded, but she never cried. She wouldn't let anyone see her in a moment of such utter weakness.

"He… he saw! He saw it and now, he's going to tell. I'll get thrown in Azkaban, and a dementor will suck out my soul," she said in a rush between sobs.

Immediately, he knew what she was talking about.

Someone had seen her Dark Mark.

Draco looked to Goyle, and saw that the larger boy had gone as pale as he was sure he had.

"Who saw it, Pansy?" he asked after he managed to calm his rattled nerves.

"P… Potter…" she sniffled out.

The Slytherin Prince felt all the air drain from him in a rush, and he thought that this is how drowning must feel.

* * *

Harry watched the Slytherin carefully from were he sat across from him. The boy had his legs crossed, one arm wrapped around his stomach and while his other hand was balled under his chin. He was grinning in a knowing way, and his dark green eyes danced with mirth. They had been there for several minutes, without a word spoken since Harry had followed him into the cabin, and it was starting to grate on the Gryffindor's nerves. 

Finally, he snapped.

"Alright, wh–"

"Five minutes, thirty-eight seconds," the other boy interrupted in that lyrical tone that drove Harry mad. "I'm impressed Potter, I did not think that you would be able to maintain your silent disposition for more than one minute. Truly a feat for you, I should say."

Once more, Harry opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the other boy continued. "You were about to ask, "What the hell do I want," am I correct?"

Narrowing his eyes, Harry nodded.

"Before I reach the purpose of our visit, allow me to explain what role it is that I occupy within the walls of Hogwarts." He paused for a moment, waiting to see if the Gryffindor would interrupt. When Harry kept silent, the Slytherin's smile grew a little more devious.

"I am an information broker, Potter. To say it simply, as it were, I discover the dirty little secrets everyone keeps. I know virtually everything about every student within Hogwarts, and I am quite well versed on almost all the professors. Except for the Headmaster, of course," he chuckled lightly, as if indulging in a private joke.

"Anything anyone would like to know about someone, they need only ask me and the information is theirs – for a price, of course."

Harry snorted, knowing that the line was coming.

The other boy raised in eyebrow in response. "Yes, I do suppose that was slightly cliché, however it does speak the truth."

"And why do I care what you do to amuse yourself?" Harry asked, more curious about where this was leading than he would have liked.

"The reason should be obvious, I would think. You can use the information I possess. Just think of the possibilities that would become available if you acquired the services of someone on the inside of Slytherin House, among the Death Eaters and their parents, passing you information."

Harry felt his blood freeze. His eyes connected to the other boy's and he knew that he had heard right.

"It should come as no surprise to you that there are those within Slytherin House that bear the Dark Mark," Zabini said with a nod and a smile. "The Dark Lord does discriminate, he accepts fodder of all ages."

The raven-haired Gryffindor stared at the other boy for a few moments, gauging whether or not the Slytherin was trying to play him for a fool. "And what does this have to do with me?" he asked slowly, wanting to leave, but being rooted to his seat by the strange boy across from him.

Leaning forward, the other boy's smile grew sinister. "Because, for only a small fee, this wonderful information could be at your disposal."

"So, this is all about making a profit."

"I never explicitly stated that the fee would be monetary, and to make such an assumption is to gravely miscalculate my integrity, Harry Potter."

"And what is your price?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

Instead of responding the Slytherin rolled up his sleeves, and bared both his forearms to Harry. "Just to prove that I am not, in fact, a Death Eater, and therefore would not myself benefit from the price our contract shall carry," he stated calmly, as he brought his sleeves back down.

He stayed silent for several moments as he smoothed out the wrinkles on his sleeves, then abruptly brought his eyes to meet Harry's, all traces of amusement gone from his features. "You do not reveal any of the information I pass to you to anyone, including the Headmaster, until a time I deign, or Valentine's Day, whichever comes first."

Harry stared at the mysterious boy for several minutes before he nodded.

Another sinister smile played across the boy's face. "Then we shall seal our agreement with an Unbreakable Vow."

* * *

Ginny stared out over the passing countryside from the relative silence of the path between cars. With only the wind and the occasional passerby to make any noise, she found that she was able to relax for the first time since she had boarded the train. 

Her calm was broken a few minutes later when Luna appeared at her side.

Several minutes of silence passed between them, with the Ravenclaw glancing at her every few minutes from the corner of her eye.

"What is it?" Ginny asked finally, quickly tired of the game.

Her wide, impossibly blue eyes turned to the youngest Weasley. "Do you remember when we used to practice kissing?" she asked.

Ginny's cheeks burned with embarrassment as she turned to her friend. "Umm… yeah? Why?" Ginny actually remembered very well. They were second years, and Ginny wanted to be ready and know how to kiss when Harry came to his senses, and Luna just wanted to know what it was like.

"No reason."

Ginny stared at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

When nothing more was forthcoming, Ginny sighed in frustration, threw her hands in the air and turned to storm away.

Before she got more than a step however, an arm grabbed her from behind and spun her around.

Her eyes were open wide, but it still took a moment for her to realize that she was kissing Luna.

Instead of pulling away, however, she smiled and gave herself over to the kiss.

A loud cough behind them caused her to jump away, however.

Standing there, one eyebrow arched in a very Malfoyish way, was Goyle. And he looked somewhere between laughing and… well, laughing. But there was something underneath it, and if she could read it right, it looked like worry.

Ginny's eyes narrowed at the boy. As she opened her mouth to berate him, however, she was cut off by Luna's whimsical voice behind her.

"You've definitely gotten better."

Turning again toward the other witch, she was surprised to see her walking through the door into the next car.

"So, you and Loony copping off? Never would of thought of you as a poof."

The heat returning once more to her cheeks, she punched him lightly in the shoulder… or elbow, as it were, considering his height. "Oh sod off. I'm not a poofter. And I'd much rather you didn't call me one either. I still like boys."

A knowing smile came to the brute's features then, and Ginny felt she would have slapped him if she could reach his face without the aid of a chair.

"Whatever you say," he laughed, turning and making his way back the way he came. "Whatever you say."

And, once more, Ginny found herself with only the wind as company.

* * *

Blaise watched as the raven-haired Gryffindor paused at the door's threshold, indecision written clearly on his features. "Why did you come to me, Zabini?" he asked, refusing to turn toward him. 

The question caught him off guard, so it took a moment for him to come to an answer.

He decided upon the truth. "Let's just say that I have a vested personal interest in seeing that Lord Voldemort does not succeed," he said plainly, finally causing the other boy's eyes to fall on him.

The Boy-Who-Lived watched him for another minute, as if trying to decipher any deception from his expression, before he nodded and stepped out into the hall.

Blaise sat there for a time thinking upon the things that had brought him to where he was now, working for the Dumbledore's dream.

Blaise couldn't help but to chuckle as he changed into his school robes as he thought of that. If his mother knew were his loyalties truly lay, he would be disowned before he could say 'galleon.'

"What's so funny?"

Blaise turned his head to face the intrusion to his thoughts with a smile. "And where have you been?" he asked, raising an eyebrow inquisitively, his sly grin settling into place.

Colin closed the door and wrapped his arms around Blaise. "Oh, around," he responded coyly before leaning in for a kiss.

"Mmm… Keeping up appearances of being a virtuous little lion and all that, hmmm?" the raven-haired boy asked as he separated himself from his boyfriend to finish changing.

Colin, already in his uniform, sat down and watched him with an appreciative gaze. "You forget, though," he said, pointing at him. "I _am _a good little Gryffindor."

The mousy Gryffindor was a master at deciphering the Slytherin's eloquent speech.

Blaise, pausing in the middle of pulling his shirt over his head, looked back with a dubious expression on his face. "Not so little, from what I recall."

Blushing madly, Colin coughed into his fist. "Yes, well… Anyways, I was actually wondering why another boy was coming out of your cabin?" he asked, looking at the older boy with a raised eyebrow.

It was Blaise's turn to blush as he picked up his robe. "Yes, well… Harry Potter and I had business to discuss," he said quickly.

"You know, when you say it like that, you make yourself sound guilty."

The tall Slytherin fastened the last button on his robe and turned to the younger boy with a frustrated sigh.

Colin's blush deepened slightly. "Sorry," he mumbled. "You know I don't mean it."

"Merci," Blaise said softly as he sat next to his brown-haired lover and wrapped his arms around him protectively. "You know that you are the only man for me, my little lion." he smiled.

After several minutes of silence, Colin lifted his head from where it had been resting on the Slytherin's shoulder. "By the way, Malfoy was wandering around looking for you."

Blaise met the younger boy's eyes and blinked in confusion. "For what reason?"

The Gryffindor shrugged and put his head back.

"And please, you know how much I loathe that entire, 'call everyone you don't like by their last name,' business. It's simply too undignified," he said, bringing a suffering sigh from the boy in his arms. "If nothing else, you should identify your friends by their surname, and your adversaries by their primary."

Colin bent his head backwards so he could look into the soft green eyes of the pseudo-philosopher. "To keep with the whole 'keep your friends close, but your enemies closer,' thing?"

"Precisely."

The Gryffindor rolled his eyes and snuggled closer to him. "Except in Harry's case, right?"

Blaise chuckled lightly at the only exception to the rule – for he knew there was always one. "For him, his entire name is…" he paused for a moment, searching for the right word.

"Impactful?" Colin offered helpfully.

Grinning, Blaise nodded slightly. "That is not actually a word, although I suppose it will do. Yes, impactful. Hearing the name Harry Potter, one and all pause to look around for the unstable, perverse, possibly-linked-to-the-Dark-Lord boy who lived. Even merely the name Potter warrants instantaneous awareness, for they were distinguished prior to their murder, and made legendary by their deaths. Their son carries on a legacy he knew nothing about for the greater part of his life, and – in the end – he will either kill or be killed because of it.

"Besides," he added after a slight pause, letting his words sink in. "It is emphatically amusing to verbalize."

This brought a bark of laughter from Colin. "Fun to say, is it? Well, you just –"

The opening of the compartment door caused him to stop mid-sentence, and Blaise felt him tense up.

"Am I interrupting something?" Draco asked as he stepped into the room, a disapproving frown upon his face.

Blaise heard Colin's breath hitch as he responded. "Not at all, my Prince," he replied, forcing a smile and waving at the seat across from them.

The blond's lip curled dangerously as he shut the door behind him and sat to in the seat Blaise had offered.

Blaise, knowing very well that the Slytherin Prince had sought him out for more than a simple social call, disentangled himself from the Gryffindor and sat up. "What do you require, Your Majesty?"

The intruder's eyes turned to the boy sitting at Blaise's side and narrowed. With a sigh, the raven-haired Slytherin turned to Colin and took the other boy's hands in his own. "I must apologize, love, but this is business, and you know how much you abhor being implicated in my trade," he whispered, ducking in for a kiss to end the sentence, receiving a disgusted snort from the other occupant of the cabin.

Colin scowled and stood up. "Fine, I'll just catch up with you at the castle," he huffed before walking out, visibly upset.

Blaise watched him go then turned to Draco, anger clear in his eyes. "This had better be worth my time, my Prince. That was the first instance we have had the fortune to be mutually unaccompanied since the release of school for the summer holiday."

After several moments of the two boys exchanging heated glares, Draco's frown became a snarl. "Potter knows about Pansy's Mark."

Instantly, Blaise felt the blood drain from his face.

* * *

Author's Notes 

I have no excuse.

I promise nothing, because things suck in my life right now, and I have had a killer case of writer's block since I quit smoking six months ago.

So, I'm sorry, and I'll try to get the next chapter out soon.

I love you all, and thank you for your continued support.

As always,

Thank you for reading,

-Damien J. Frost


	11. Side Story One

**Notice **

This chapter is not necessary for the plot of the story, and contains consensual sex between two men. The purpose of this chapter is explain the history of the characters. If you are offended by sexual scenes, then I have to wonder how you made it past the Prolouge. If you are offended by sexual scenes by two men, then I suggest you develop an open mind. If you are simply uncomfortable with a sexual scene with two men, then read the following chapter, and you may be a little less uncomfortable with it. This statement was a little less professional than I usually like, but I felt the need to get my point across.

_**The Virtuous Little Lion and the Deviously Deceptive Serpent**_

_A Repercussions Side Story_

_by Damien J. Frost_

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, and all items associated with, are property of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., et al. There is no profit being gained from the content of this story and it is to be used solely for private entertainment purposes. The plot is the intellectual property of the writer. No parts of this story are to be duplicated or posted elsewhere without the expressed permission of the author.  
This story is rated "M" or "R" by the guidelines of the fansite on which it is posted and contains Adult Content, Adult Language, Nudity, Suggestive Themes and Strong Sexual Content. Do not read if you are under the age of 17. Reader discretion is advised.

* * *

Colin shivered as he felt it again. 

Someone was watching him.

He looked around, like he did every time the feeling crept upon him. It was impossible to pick out any one person in the middle of dinner however, so he went back to eating his dinner and reading his Potions book.

_O.W.L.S. suck_, he thought miserably as he read the same line for the third time.

The eyes were still on him. The sensation had never been this intense, and Colin could almost feel those mystery eyes undressing him. The brown-haired boy shivered again, but he wasn't sure what from.

He was startled out of his discreet survey of the Great Hall, doing everything he could to find those eyes, when a huffy and noisy Ginny Weasley sat across from him.

Well, more like plopped in front of him.

"I hate O.W.L.S.!" she moaned before letting her head hit the table with and audible 'thunk.' "Ow!" she cried as she immediately sat up and started rubbing her forehead. Colin couldn't help but roll his eyes and smile at her antics. She had a way of doing that for him.

If he didn't know better, he would have asked her out. As it was, her crush on a certain bushy-haired know-it-all kind of kept all suitors at bay. Well, except for the ones she used to keep people from getting suspicious (i.e. Michael Corner, Dean Thomas, Justin Finch-Fletchley.

As it was, her revealing of her sexuality to him had led him to start wondering about his own. He started to notice his eyes lingering longer on Harry and Ron than Lavender and Parvati.

Maybe his hero worship had evolved a little more than he thought it would have.

That had him quite worried about his state of being, seeing how he didn't know of a single openly gay person to ever have attended Hogwarts.

If they had, they probably hadn't survived.

After all, wizard-kind wasn't exactly open to the idea of same-sex relationships. Pureblood hierarchy and all that made it very difficult for new ways of thinking to permeate society – especially here in tradition-laden Britain. But, with more and more muggle-borns gaining positions of power, new ideas were starting to flow through the stuffiness, and he was optimistic.

"You're not the only one who hates them," he replied, as he laughed at the small red mark on her forehead. She frowned at his laughter. After a moment, her face pinched in a scowl as she looked over his shoulder. "Someone at Slytherin is staring at you"

Colin froze. He had been sitting with his back facing the Slytherin table ever since he had felt the eyes on him – it had never occurred to him that the person watching him would be from their rival house.

"Who is it?" he asked quietly.

Ginny's brow furrowed in concentration as she looked at the table of snakes discreetly. "I can't really tell, he's not looking anymore," she whispered. Colin already knew that however, the heavy feeling he got whenever they focused on him was gone.

"It looks like he's one of Malfoy's cronies, not quite sure I know who it is. He's tall, dark and handsome, though," she said playfully.

Colin blushed a little before standing up. "I'm going to hit the sack, Ginny. Have fun with your 'tall, dark, and handsome,'" he muttered, gaining a little satisfaction from the glare she sent his way.

Collecting his things slowly, he waited until he felt the eyes on him again before he straightened out and glanced over to the Slytherins.

Their eyes met in an instant, and Colin had to keep from letting his breathing hitch.

His eyes were green. Not a striking emerald like Harry's but more soft and dark, like grass in the shade during summer.

But they were just as intense as the Boy-Who-Lived's. It took all of Colin's willpower to break his gaze from the other boy's.

With a steadying breath, he walked out of the Great Hall, trying not to rush.

He could feel those eyes the entire way.

* * *

Colin had discovered, after much prying and nonchalant questioning of his peers, that the owner of those eyes was one Blaise Zabini. He hadn't been able to find out anything about the mysterious boy, however. Apparently, he was a ghost – not in the literal sense, but as in someone who was always there, but never noticed. 

No one, except for possibly Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, actually knew anything about the mysterious Slytherin.

And it wasn't like he was going to ask _them_ about him.

So, he had taken it upon himself to follow the other boy around.

In the span of a week, he had his schedule down pat, knew where he liked to sit at the dinner table, even discovered which bathroom he preferred to use.

That Saturday, however, he discovered that he wasn't as clever as he thought he was.

As per his now usual routine, after he was finished with dinner, he followed the Slytherin boy out of the hall, and down into the dungeons. He would always lose him rather quickly once they got down here, however, and he could never figure out exactly how that happened.

Tonight, though, the slick snake stayed within Colin's sight – barely. Colin would always just catch a glimpse of him turning the corner ahead of him.

At one point, he could have sworn that the striking jade eyes had caught him, but when the other boy didn't slow down, he chalked it up to his imagination.

He learned quickly he shouldn't be so quick to brush things off, however.

After fifteen minutes of traversing the twisting corridor of the dungeons, Colin finally lost sight of the other boy.

With a defeated sigh and a smile he turned to walk away.

That's when a disturbing fact occurred to him.

He was lost.

Then, a rich, lilting tenor voice seemed to come at him from everywhere.

"It appears that an adroit little lion has become disoriented in his quest. How ever will the righteous boy discover the path he needs to traverse to conduct him from this snakes' den?"

Colin broke out into a nervous sweat.

He had been caught, and in the Slytherin Dungeons of all places.

"I was just wandering around. I didn't mean to intrude," he said quickly, hoping to talk his way out of the situation he found himself in.

There was a soft chuckle in response, followed by a whisper behind his ear.

"You are a fraudulent charlatan, Colin Creevey."

Colin spun around, only to discover there was nothing there.

Caught in the utter silence of the corridor, the brown-haired boy's nerves were beginning to rattle.

As the voice started again, he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on where it was coming from.

"_Riddle me this, riddle me that,  
From the time of the Founders,  
We have crawled these halls,  
In the towers, deaf can we render,  
See us not, but feel us all,  
We carry scents, and bring you ease,  
Whether we crumble walls,  
Or gently brush the leaves,  
Scattered forever, cardinals named are we"_

Colin stood stock still for several minutes, the only sound being a light breeze whipping through the halls. Slowly, a smile spread across his face as he realized that was the answer.

"The four winds."

No sooner had he spoken the answer than the object of his desire appeared in front of him, clapping softly, almost mockingly.

"Very well done," he complimented, his voice low. "You ascertained the proper response more swiftly than I had anticipated."

The young Gryffindor stood there silently, unsure of himself or the situation he found himself in. However, he couldn't help the tremor of excitement that traveled down his spine when the other boy's rhythmic voice spoke again.

"I was quite delighted to find you have reciprocated the interest I have shown you over these past weeks. To be honest, I find myself unsure of exactly why you have captivated my regard, Colin Creevey," he smiled, now circling the younger boy like a vulture, seemingly unaware of the other boy's nervousness. "You must understand, my mother has educated me that we purebloods are the superiors of the wizarding world. That regardless of the type of person I am or what I make of my future, I am already superior for simply existing."

Colin couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped at this proclamation.

The other boy raised an eyebrow in amusement at the outburst. "I myself have recently become of a opinion similar to yours, Colin Creevey. No one is special for simply existing. And I, unlike most of my contemporaries, have a sharp mind that is quite capable of forming opinions of my own."  
Here he stopped in front of the dusty-haired Gryffindor and leaned in. Colin closed his eyes in dreaded anticipation. "You may be muggle-born, Colin Creevey, but I have found myself quite taken with you," he whispered before closing the last breath of space and capturing his lips in a soft and timid kiss.

He's as nervous as I am, Colin thought, a slight smile coming to his lips. Wanting to assure the other boy that this situation was quite alright by him, he wrapped his arms around the taller boy's neck and deepened the kiss.

This seemed to be all the encouragement needed. The timidity leeched out of the kiss quickly, and Colin suddenly found himself pressed against the cold, stone wall.

A moan escaped his lips as he felt the older boy's hardness pressing against his own as kisses were trailed down his neck. After several moments of kissing and panting and caressing, Colin felt his belt being undone and opened his eyes with a snap, grabbing the other boy's wrists, stopping him.  
"I'm not ready for that yet," he whispered, his voice ragged and hoarse from the lust pouring through him.

The taller boy was panting as well, and he could see the regret flashing through his eyes. Colin smiled softly and brought his hand up to caress the other boy's cheek. "I said 'yet.' And trust me, it was very difficult to convince myself that I needed you to stop. Not wanted, mind you, but needed."

A sigh of relief came out warm against his skin as the hot, dark skin of his mysterious beau's forehead came to rest on the shorter boy's shoulder. "That is… very good news."

Colin smiled languidly as he cupped the Slytherin's face in his hands. "Now, where were we?"

A wicked smile fell across the other boy's face before he reclaimed the Gryffindor's lips.

* * *

The weeks flew by, and the boys' relationship grew rapidly. They were careful to hide their liaisons however, knowing very few would condone it. 

One was a high-class pureblood Slytherin; the other a muggle-born Gryffindor.

The fact they were both male was the least of their worries at this point.

Still, they sought each other after every meal and any other chances that arose, even forsaking a Hogsmeade weekend to spend a quiet day at the castle together, with only first and second years to contend with. At every given opportunity, they would sneak into any nearby abandoned classrooms to devour each other.

Soon, however, Christmas break was upon them, and they knew they would have to bear the pain of parting for a few torturous weeks.

Colin laughed when Blaise had worded it that way.

"You know, I'm pretty sure we'll be fine," he whispered as they shared a few last stolen moments before they had to run down to the carriages that would take them to Hogsmeade Station.

Foreheads touching, arms pulling each other flush, it was easy for Colin to see all of his boyfriend's facial expressions.

It was something he was proud of. He could read the older boy like no one else. Granted, it wasn't like trying to read Draco Malfoy, who had perfected the art of presenting an emotionless façade to the world.

No, Blaise was an actor of a different caliber. He could laugh, cry, cringe and rage on command, without it ever seeming false.

He was opposite, in a way, to Malfoy. Instead of deadening his emotions, he overplayed others perceptions of those emotions.

But Colin could see through it. He'd been able to since their first tentative kiss.

And right now, the young Gryffindor could see a little fear and trepidation in the other boy's eyes.

"Are you alright, Blaise?" he asked, worry quickly filling his stomach.

The boy in question expelled a long sigh and smiled. "Nothing slips through your observant mind, does it, love?" he whispered, stealing a quick kiss when he finished. Colin remained quiet, knowing now was not a time to talk. He was slightly startled when Blaise spoke again, however, because his voice had lost its lilting quality, something that only happened when he became truly emotional.

"Colin, I'm not very good at this. I've never really done this sort of thing before," he swallowed nervously and disentangled himself. "I…" he paused taking a deep breath, causing the knot in Colin's stomach to tighten considerably.

This was sounding more and more to him like a break-up discussion.

"I got you something," he finally said, his voice trembling lightly. "For Christmas."

Colin let out the breath he had been holding in a relieved laugh, startling the other boy. "Oh thank God."

The raven-haired boy merely arched in eyebrow and quirked his lips in response.

"I thought you were breaking up with me," Colin explained, waving away the look.

Blaise's face went slack in surprise. "Oh"

Not letting the Slytherin linger on this information, Colin leaned in and wrapped his arms around the other boy's neck again. "I believe you were saying something about a present?" he grinned.

The other boy quickly grew nervous again, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a slender, rectangular box. He opened his mouth several times, unable to speak. Colin thought it was priceless and wished he had his camera with him.

"This is for you. I hope you like it," he said, finally holding the present out.

Carefully, Colin took it and unwrapped it.

The box was velvet, and the Gryffindor was struck breathless when he opened the lid.

A thin platinum necklace lay within, the Zabini family crest hanging from the center.

"My mother gave this to me last year and told me to give it to 'someone special.'" Blaise whispered, taking the necklace out of the box and moving behind him. "It is an heirloom from my mother's fifth husband's – my biological father's – family. It means a lot to me," he finished as he clasped it around Colin's neck.

Colin felt tears well up in his eyes and mentally cursed himself for getting all emotional like a girl. "I love it and I'm honored that you would trust me with it," he whispered, fingering the pendant.

Blaise wrapped his arms around him from behind and Colin leaned back, catching the other boy's lips passionately.

Pulling apart, Colin grinned slyly, as he pulled a box out of his jacket pocket. "I got you a little something, too," he whispered, relinquishing the box. "Happy Christmas."

* * *

Christmas and the New Year came and went along with Easter, and the world went to war. Harry Potter and his merry little band of do-gooders (of whom Colin considered himself on the fringes of) fought to keep peace in the wizarding world. The boys' affection for each other only deepened, and when they were together, the matters of the masses meant little. 

When they were alone, Colin could tell that the other boy was slightly disturbed that he had let anyone into his life so completely, as Purebloods were taught that barriers had to be held up in all aspect of life to avoid any political backlash.

Politics were the life of the Pureblooded, after all.

Whenever he began to worry, however, he looked at the pendant that hung around his neck and was assured that everything would work out between them.

The fact that their snogging sessions had been getting more and more heated also helped to assuage his fears.

It was one such session, shortly after O.W.L.S. were completed and they decided to celebrate. Both boys had their shirts off and Colin felt as if he were ready to take it further when his hopes were dashed by a figurative bucket of cold water.

"That is disgusting, Zabini."

Freezing, Colin slowly turned his head toward the voice, and instantly felt his stomach drop to his feet. There in the doorway stood the Prince of Slytherin, Draco Malfoy.

"It's one thing to be snogging a Mudblood, but a Mudblood boy? I thought you had better taste than that," he sneered at the other boy.

Crawling out from under the dusty-haired boy, Blaise stood from the blanket spread on the floor and addressed the blond as if he wasn't half-naked in a classroom with another boy.

"Something comes to mind about a pot and a kettle, Draco," he said pleasantly. Colin, however, could hear the razor edge to his voice, and, by the look on the Prince's face, so could he.

"Meaning?" the blond hissed, his anger almost palpable.

A light chuckle left the dark-skinned Slytherin and Colin felt a shiver of fear and excitement run through him. If Blaise ever spoke to him like that…

"You and Hermione Granger – two weeks ago, if I recall – had quite the interesting rendezvous."

Colin's eyes widened in shock at the information. _What? He and Hermione… And how does Blaise even know this?_

Malfoy's eyes narrowed as he straightened up, no longer leaning against the doorframe. "It was you," he spat, pointing at the other Slytherin accusingly. "You were the one in the common room."

It was quite apparent to Colin that the blond had forgotten he was even there at this point, and he took the opportunity to study the unshakable Prince.

Blaise had explained to him all about the hierarchy of Slytherin House, and Colin knew just how dangerous it was to cross this man. For several silent minutes, fire and fear warred with each other in his eyes before he nodded in concession to the knowledge the raven-haired boy held over him.

"We're at an impasse, then. You keep my secret, I'll keep yours," he said, his tone entirely businesslike.

Smiling his dangerous smile, Blaise inclined his head in agreement. "Now, if you would kindly excuse us," he purred, bowing slightly in mock respect. A disgusted snort, followed by a slamming door, heralded the blond Slytherin's departure.

Colin quivered in anticipation as Blaise turned his predatory gaze back to him.

"Now, where were we?" he whispered, mirroring Colin's words of several months earlier.

Adopting what he hoped was a seductive look, the Gryffindor leaned back on his elbows, an open invitation clear in his eyes.

The other boy wasted no time in covering the younger boy's body with his own, seizing his lips in a tender, passionate kiss. Colin moaned as the kiss broke and Blaise trailed his mouth down his neck and chest.

His breath hitched as the older boy took one nipple into his mouth, biting it slightly, then trailed to the other and repeated the process.

"Blaise…" he rasped, his voice failing him slightly.

Pausing in his ministrations, the dark-haired Slytherin looked up. "Yes?" he rumbled, his voice taking a deeper timbre in his excitement.

Taking a deep breath, Colin looked him in the eyes and spoke the words he knew the other boy had been waiting to hear.

"I'm ready."

If the situation were any different, Colin might have found his rapidly widening eyes humorous. "A-are you sure?"

It was the second time the Gryffindor had ever seen his boyfriend unconfident, and his heart swelled at the concern he saw in his eyes.

Reaching out and cupping his face with one hand, Colin pulled him back so that their noses were touching lightly.

"Yes," he breathed before taking Blaise's lips, trying to convey every bit of emotion he felt for the other boy in the act.

When they finally broke the kiss, both boys were panting.

Blaise wasted no time, however.

Quickly, he began to undo Colin's trousers, sliding them off before standing and undoing his own.

Colin stared in appreciation at the lithe form on display in front of him, his eyes greedily soaking in his soon-to-be lover.

"You like?"

The Gryffindor only nodded before climbing to his knees and hooking his fingers around the waistband of the other boy's boxer shorts. "But I'd like it more without these obstructing the view," he whispered before pulling them down swiftly.

He stared for a moment in hunger as the other boy's erection hung in the air before him before grasping it lightly and pulling it into his mouth.

A shuddering breath escaped from the other boy as he leaned back against the teacher's desk – the only one that hadn't been moved off to the side of the room.

The dusty-haired boy bobbed his head up and down the shaft, running his tongue up and down, the length, licking and swirling around the tip.

"Colin, slow down."

Languidly licking from the base to the tip while he stared up at his lover with innocent eyes, he smiled internally at the effect he was having on the controlled Slytherin.

When he finally pulled back, he was pushed lightly to the ground, where Blaise removed his own knickers, and proceeded to reciprocate.

The sensations were driving Colin wild as he tried to keep his moans under control and to keep his hips from bucking wildly.

His eyes opened wide in confusion when the sensations ceased, only to find those dark jade eyes peering into his own.

"Are you sure you're ready?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

Colin nodded confidently, knowing that if he showed any hesitation, Blaise would likely not go through with what he was so desperately craving now.

A soft moan escaped his throat and he closed his eyes as he felt Blaise at his entrance, and his breath hitched as the raven-haired boy began stroking his own as he slowly pushed in.

There was some slight discomfort at first, but it was quickly overridden by the pleasure as the older boy kept stroking as he pushed in.

When he stopped, Colin opened his eyes. "More…" he gasped.

Thank was all the encouragement needed as Blaise pulled out and pushed back in, slowly at first, then gradually quickening his pace.

At some point, he had let go of Colin, but that didn't matter to the Gryffindor, he was in the throes of ecstasy as the other boy quickly pumped in and out, in and out, driving him ever closer to the edge.

"Colin…" The dark-haired boy moaned, and Colin grasped himself and started jerking wildly as he felt his lover start shooting his seed deep inside, the hot liquid searing his insides with pleasure.

Moments later, Colin joined him, shooting uncontrollably, some landing on him, some on his lover.  
When the moment passed, Blaise collapsed on him with a satisfied sigh and captured his lips in a slow, languorous kiss.

"That was –"

Whatever sentiment Colin was about to convey was interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

"Another thing, Zabini – Oh, dear Merlin!"

Colin's eyes snapped to the door, only to see Draco Malfoy stumble back out, hand covering his eyes as he slammed the door once again.

"Learn how to do fucking locking charms, Zabini!" he hollered through the door, and Colin started laughing as he heard the blond cast one before storming off down the hallway.

A smile settled on his lips as he turned back to his lover. "I think we should get cleaned up," he whispered.

"Well," drawled the Slytherin tiredly. "Now that the door is locked, who's to say we shouldn't just lay here for a while"

And that is exactly what they did.

* * *


End file.
